Dragon God Chronicles III: Mother's Tears
by Jessi D
Summary: Tiamat is dead and the Lord of Dragons has his throne back. However, back on Troil, forces are gathering to harm the one that he holds most dear.
1. Chapter I

**Jessi:** **I do not own Forgotten Realms. All characters are mine. Please read the Dragon God Chronicles I and II before reading this one.**

Hello again...

Those who have read my previous chronicles know that I was talking about writing a third. My answer was maybe and I doubted that I would find the inspiration to write another that matched my others...

But apparently I was wrong. Less than a month after the completion of my five-year work I'm here again. Vale and Chel's story needs to be continued I felt.

Welcome and thank you for taking the time to click the link, readers both old and new.

Please enjoy.

* * *

Golden sunlight shone through the wide arches of the windows, illuminating the delicate features of a bored student staring out of the window. Personally she couldn't see the point of the large windows, which only served to show her the glorious day that she was missing. One window was open, letting the fragrant smell of the forest while the light sparkled on the surface of the lake of which tempting glimpses could be seen through the trees.

A thin cane made a loud bang as it met the wooden desk, inches away from the young elf's delicate fingertips. A yelp escaped her throat and she hurriedly directed her gaze towards the front of the small classroom.

"Princess Vale!" her tutor, a thin and greying elf in neat and formal dress, by the name of Balachder, scowled at her.

"Sorry Balachder..." Vale sheepishly looked down at the papers scattered across her desk by the cane. Half were actual notes while the rest were covered in absentminded doodles.

"Need I remind you, princess that you need to conduct yourself in a manner suitable for one of your blood," he put his hands on his hips and leant forward, "I supposed you could tell me the correct manner of addressing the Imperial Guardian when in a service, couldn't you?"

In a slight panic Vale glanced down at her notes. Her guardian had a dozen different titles that apparently changed on occasion, mood and, she was beginning to suspect season too,

"_I_ usually call him Chel," that answer was bound to anger her teacher but the sight of his face rapidly purpling with rage and shock was the only high point of her etiquette lessons.

"That informal manner princess is not befitting a royal elf!" true to form Balachder's face was a spectacular shade of purple, "I suppose _you'd_ think it proper to turn up in court in your usual abysmal attire."

Vale's blue eyes narrowed,

"I prefer what I usually wear to _this_ thing," she gestured to the long clinging gown of rich material she'd been forced to wear, "The only elf who always wears dresses is Chel."

From the expression on Balachder's face she thought that he was about to hit her with the cane but then his rage was diverted by the door opening,

"_What_?" his furious expression faded, as did his colour, when he saw who had just screamed at.

Chel's only response was to raise one delicate eyebrow.

"I-Imperial Guardian, s-sir, how may I serve?"

"I am here to collect my ward," Vale, who'd been gathering her papers together ever since the door had opened, stood, almost tripping on the hem of her gown, "It is time for her lesson. Besides," his expression grew stern, "my job is prevent harm from coming to the princess."

The only sound from Balachder's mouth was a strangled yelp but anything else he might have tried to say was cut off as Chel closed the door behind Vale.

"Would he have really hit me with the cane?" the elven princess looked up into her guardian's lovely face.

Chel took the papers from Vale and tucked them beneath his arm,

"Probably not Vale-uke," any negative emotion that haunted Vale was instantly gone at the mention of her pet-name and she grinned widely. It was hard for her to feel sad with Chel around anyway.

Her guardian was an immortal of great power named Chelevva Pendragon, descended from two dragon deities. Currently he wore the form that the elves of her forest had grown to know, that of a spectacularly beautiful winged elf baring the name of Chel. In contrast to the elves that lived here he had white skin, tinted with silver, ankle-length white hair and, the most obvious difference, a pair of white feathered wings.

"How are you today?"

Chel's eyes filled with sorrow, "I have been depressed again, as of late."

Vale sadly nodded,

"You haven't been..." she trailed off but her hand lingered on the inside of his delicate wrist. Her guardian had not had the best of lives and had been depressed since he was a hatchling. For much of his long existence he'd practised self-harm, cutting himself again and again, almost in a trance-like state.

_No_, said Chel, switching to telepathy for privacy, _I have not gone back to cutting myself... I fear I've lost my nerve for that._

_What have you been sad about?_

_I was thinking about... about us... I _do _love you Vale,_ he said hurriedly as the young cleric's face fell, _I just wonder sometimes if I was right to go after you when you fled Waterdeep. I feel that my... condition did not give you much of a choice when I asked you to stay with me._

_I didn't fall in love with your depression. And before you ask neither did I fall in love with your face, your power and I'm not just seeking favour with Tiamet,_ she reached up and hugged him, feeling his head fall onto her shoulder, _I love you and don't you forget it._

There was silence from Chel before kissed her cheek,

"Thank you. By the way I wear robes not dresses," referring to the black robes that he always wore. He drew away from her and opened the door to an empty classroom, beckoning Vale to him. Shutting the door behind Vale, he took a seat on an empty desk. He gently pushed a soft package into her hands and Vale grinned as she saw that it was a set of her usual boyish clothes, tunic, breeches and boots.

"What are you teaching me today?" she asked her guardian, voice muffled as she pulled her dress over her head.

"Your lesson is tomorrow Vale-uke," when Vale turned to look at him he continued, "It is a beautiful day and it seemed a shame that you should miss it."

Fully dressed, Vale took both of Chel's hands in hers, "Have I told you that I love you lately?" her grin widened as he nodded, a small smile on his face and even a slight silver blush on his cheeks. She leant forward and kissed him, her guardian's hands coming around to clasp her waist.

Footsteps sounded in the corridor and the two sprang apart instantly, waiting with bated breath as the person passed by the room.

Vale sighed, leaning into Chel's embrace.

"It still bothers you doesn't it?"

"I just don't like lying to people... especially my father..." she looked up into Chel's blue-green eyes, taking some comfort from his presence.

The relationship that had started in the outside world, beyond the closeted civilisation of these elves, and had even survived Vale's possession as well as the revelation of Chel's true origins, was known only to Vale and Chel. To the rest of their people Chel was still the distant and chaste Imperial Guardian and guider of the Church of Tiamet and Vale was a virginal princess and cleric. She was only fifty years of age compared to Chel who had been with her people for thousands of years and had existed for many, many more.

"We will tell them soon Vale..." he held her closer, "I love you, remember."

"...We are doing the right thing, aren't we?"

"We are doing nothing to offend Tiamet or others," he touched the platinum Star of Tiamet that hung on the chain around his neck, feeling the reassuring warmth it produced. He knew, without looking, that Vale was doing the same thing.


	2. Chapter II

**Jessi:** Hmm... not as fast an update as before, but I am trying to make all my chapters longer. Enjoy.

* * *

Silvery shafts of moonlight illuminated the spacious main hall of the Temple. The massive statue of Tiamet, the five-headed dragon god, cast a long black shadow across the empty stones, obscuring the sweeping designs that decorated the floor. 

It was within this shadow that Chel knelt. His white hair was spread out on the floor, motionless for now, much like Chel himself.

The dragon's head was bowed. Amongst the material of his robes, indistinguishable from the darkness about him, only his pale hands were visible, gently clasped and resting in his lap.

He was deep in meditation, offering up his prayers to his father, Tiamet. He was alone. Normally there would be one or two stragglers finishing their prayers, but tonight was a feast, a long awaited one to celebrate the return of himself and Vale.

Outside, just a few hundred metres away, the elves would be gathering around the long tables set around the bonfire that he himself had lit.

Whether he'd go or not, however-

The moonlight abruptly died and, in the darkness, Chel's eyes opened. Only pitch black met his gaze.

His slender fingers worked through a few arcane gestures. When the darkness failed to lift a small frown appeared on Chel's face. He spoke the words to a more powerful spell, the empty blackness seeming to swallow the soft syllables.

The darkness stubbornly remained and a soft growl escaped his throat.

His senses were suddenly alive and screaming at him. Faster than any mortal could move, Chel stood,

"_Show yourself_!" his fangs and claws were fully extended and his hair framed his face in a writhing halo.

Nothing answered his command, even though a lesser creature would have found itself stumbling forward to answer it.

The immortal's eyes narrowed, his stance weary. There seemed to be nothing there, even to his keen eyes. But throughout his long life he'd found that even the fantastic, but still mortal, senses of a dragon could be all-too easily tricked. Whereas his immortal senses... With infinite care he stepped forward.

Abruptly Chel was knocked from his feet, his winged elf form meeting the wall with backbreaking force. His elven shape only seemed fragile though. In an instant he leapt upwards into the air, his powerful wings sending him up towards the windows.

Pain seized his head in a vice-like grip and he realised with a jolt that his assailant's true target was his mind.

Summoning up all his mental strength he pushed the presence away. It fought every inch of the way but it was pushed back all the same.

_I do not fear you or your darkness. I have fought beings mightier than you and I have always been victorious. _

The intruder strained against his power and Chel allowed himself a small smile. It would soon be gone.

Suddenly the temperature dropped. The immortal could feel his limbs freeze and grow as heavy and mobile as granite. The cold seemed to reach into his very heart.

It hurt. _It hurt_!

Sensation was lost to him, slowly ebbing away until it seemed he was floating in an abyss. Even his otherworldly magical senses, inherited from his mother, were gone. His heart, so cold now, beat all the faster in fear.

Oh gods, the pain!

_Chel! Chel! _

Another voice… not the intruder, but familiar…

Vale!

He reached out mentally, following the telepathic call of his elven ward. He used it as a pathway… trying to find his way.

His eyes snapped open, his lungs taking in a huge gulp of air. His limbs could move and he could feel again, though even the floor beneath him (he hadn't even realised that he'd fallen) felt as though it was distant.

The first thing he felt strongly was a pair of warm hands wrapped around one of his own. Chel looked across to see his ward, kneeling beside him. Tears were falling from her eyes in a steady crystal stream.

He opened his mouth to speak to her, to reassure her that he was fine, but all that escaped his throat was a hoarse mewling.

That only served to make her tears fall faster and she began to sob.

A single tear fell onto his face, resting in the corner of his mouth. He licked it away, relishing its warmth and saltiness. It seemed to give him strength again, enough to lift himself from the floor and slump against Vale's shoulder.

_I-I-I,_ even his telepathy was unsteady, one of the simplest tricks for a deity, and one he'd been _born _able to do.

He was shivering and he hadn't even realised it.

"Chel?" he lifted his head to see Vale's eyes, red from the tears that still dripped from her chin, "What happened? You were... screaming," that didn't come close to describing it. Chel's scream had been terrifying, the noise a mix of elven and dragon screams, a high unearthly sound.

It had not been as terrifying as his eyes. They had been open, but...

They'd been completely blank, blind... or perhaps seeing things that no one was meant to see.


	3. Chapter III

**Jessi:** Damn school...

* * *

_The streets of Sigil were packed as usual, with its great variety of citizens from all corners of the Planes. It was quite common for people here to sport wings, tails or any other mix of bizarre appendages. _

_There was a ripple in the crowd as two colossal creatures pushed through. They were shaped like Faerunian dragons, even down to the vestigial wings on their backs. One was made of bone lashed together with metal wire. The other was black iron, its eyes glowing a deep red like a furnace. _

_Two smaller figures followed. They wore identical platinum robes, fastened with ornate star-shaped clasps. The hands that protruded slightly from the wide voluminous sleeves were clawed and there was the slightest hint of scales. _

_The building that they stopped in front, the dragon golems standing stock still before them, was Sigil's most expensive pleasure house. _

_The high walls were covered in intricate and lewd designs. Two female guards, clad in the scantest chain mail armour lounged on the wall, more an advertisement for the house's courtesans than anything else. _

_With barely a sound the twin beings moved inside, the golems waiting patiently at the entrance. _

_

* * *

_

_"Our prince," both robed figures knelt on the floor, their foreheads touching the luxurious carpet. The one they were addressing looked on with disinterest. _

_He was sprawled over a chaise-lounge, supported by many thick and plush cushions. His only garment was a black, open robe. Diamonds glittered on the strands of jewels wrapped loosely around his slender waist. One arm was slackly draped across the waist of one of the house's whores; the back of the couch supporting the other limb. _

_The thick beguiling smell of narcotics came from the white stick held between his fingers. Occasionally he would bring it to his lips and inhale the thick smoke. Someone had outlined one of his eyes in dark kohl but it had been smudged and the socket was dark with the powder. Lipstick, do doubt from one of the whores encircling his makeshift bed, had been similarly smudged across his own lips. _

_The eyes that watched from beneath lowered lids were blue-green with slit pupils, as they always were, no matter what form Chelevva Pendragon took._

_"So..." his head fell back onto the arm of the couch, "my father sends his lapdogs after me," the whores around him giggled. The one on the couch with him, a painted female with the ears and tail of a cat, drew closer to his pointed ear,_

_"Shall we invite them to join the fun, my lord?" she straddled his slim waist and ran a hand down his chest. _

_Chelevva sat up, pushing her away, disgust showing plainly on his face,_

_"I tire of you. Leave," he angrily gestured towards the door, "All of you! _Now!"

_The bevy of whores hurried out of the room, leaving behind only the scent of their perfume and cosmetics._

_The immortal fell back onto the cushions, inhaling more of the narcotic smoke. He glanced to the side. Still kneeling on the floor, the two robed figures stared back._

_"Elapharan, Menherria, I meant you too," when they did not move he sat up again, "I like you but I _will_ destroy you if you do not leave."_

_"We can not leave, young master."_

_"Lord Tiamet was most insistent that you return to Mercuria."_

_"He thinks he can order me home?" snarled the immortal, his hands clenching into fists, crushing the burning narcotics in the process. He sighed and brushed the remains off his hands, reaching behind the couch for more. _

_"Lord Tiamet is your father-"_

_"-and your deity. You are _his_-"_

_"-Divine Agent."_

_"His son."_

_"Nevertheless, he is powerless to command me. I choose when and if I obey him," he gestured and a small flame appeared in his palm. He lit the narcotic stick and put it in his mouth. _

_"The master worries for your well-being, our prince."_

_"We have been allowed the use of force to bring you home if we must."_

_Chelevva stared at them then burst out laughing,_

_"You are mere messengers! What do you think you could possibly do against _me_?" his long hair lifted, magical sparks crackling along its length, "I am the child of two deities, I am the one whose talks to the dead..." he suddenly glanced into the shadows, his arms hugging his chest, "They're always around me you know... Their voices and their screams... always, always... the _screams!"

_Chelevva suddenly back away into a corner, staring at the shadows with an expression of horror on his face. _

_"Our prince?"_

_"What is wrong?"_

"Shut up!_" the immortal pressed his hands against his ears, "Oh please, please be quiet! It was not my fault... _I did not choose to live!"

_Chelevva Pendragon, child of two deities and Divine Agent of Tiamet, threw back his head and screamed. _

* * *

**Jessi:** Do not worry readers, this scene does have a purpose. I wrote it from an image I had in my head of Chel in the smeared makeup (I've wanted to use it for a while now). 


	4. Chapter IV

Chel's eyes opened, the pupils narrowing to slits in the flickering light of the fire. He recognized the design on the ceiling above him, the carvings depicting entwined branches. He sat up, taking a reassuring look at the familiar room about him, the bedchamber of his living quarters.

Vale was curled up on the end of his bed, a blanket falling haphazardly from her small form. Her hands twitched as though her sleep was troubled by uneasy dreams.

He assumed that it was her who had supported him as he took the grey, wavering journey to his chambers in the Heir's Palace, Vale's home.

The immortal crawled out from beneath his thick quilts, pleased to see that at least some measure of strength had returned to his limbs.

It had also been presumably Vale who had relieved him of his boots and his formal robes. The black garments were flung over the chair beside the window, the silver designs glowing softly in the moonlight that entered through the crack in the curtains.

Smiling softly, he straightened the blanket that covered Vale, brushing a few loose strands of hair out of her face.

That done he slid off his bed and padded silently to the wide fireplace, needing the warmth of the fire.

Chel's mind travelled back to the vision that had interrupted his meditations. With the flawless memory that all deities were granted he could still remember the day clearly.

"Opium dens and whorehouses… What a strange thing to haunt me so…" he muttered. He suddenly felt cold again and hugged his arms to his chest, summoning a new black robe. Sighing he moved so that he could lean against the back of a chair, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

As always his face, whether in elven form or his own true form, was that of a young male in his prime, deceptively delicate and beautiful. Despite his youthful appearance, at that moment Chel felt the full weight of his long, long life, every single year like a heavy burden on his back.

He slid to the floor, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling again.

After a long moment an idea struck him and he sat up. His hands scooped a handful of flame from his fireplace and he stared into it, concentrating his will onto his task.

"Father, I have need of your advice," his voice trembled slightly, "Will you talk to me? Please?"

For a moment nothing happened.

The flame suddenly guttered and went out. His senses detected a presence in the shadows behind him.

One single golden eye was glowing there, soon joined by another. A mouth similarly appeared, the glint of fangs subtly apparent within.

"My child, I have heard your summons and I have answered."

Chel's head bowed and he began the ritual response, "I thank you, Lord, that in your wisdom-"

"Enough," a white clawed hand, neither elven or draconic but a mix of both, appeared, dismissing the response, "You know that I have no taste for such ceremony, at least not from you," he looked down, smiling warmly, "Since when have we been so formal with… Chelevva?"

Chel's body had chosen that moment to start shivering again, his skin fading to a corpse white.

"My child what is wrong?" warmth surrounded the younger dragon, a mental embrace. Chel relished it, the smell of sky and home, and, most importantly, the sense of love, "Are you in pain? What has happened?" Tiamet, one of the elder gods of Faerun, was fussing over him like a mother hen. Had it been under different circumstances, the immortal would have smiled.

"There was… something. Something in your temple."

"I have not… I have not sensed anything amiss."

"It was cold… And it did this," he looked up into the disembodied eyes, "Had not Vake-uke been there I would have…"

A small noise escaped Tiamet's throat and Chel recognized the fear behind it. Apart from Tiamet himself, Chel was the only surviving member of the dragon god race. Not only that but the blood of Kereska, Tiamet's mate, flowed in Chel's veins.

Tiamet was protective of the younger immortal.

"Father, what could have done this?"

"…You have not felt its ilk before?"

"No."

The eyes rolled upwards as the deity thought,

"I will look into the archives. Maybe even the mammal gods…" his hand rested on the younger dragon's forehead, "May I?"

Chel nodded, summoning the memory of the attack and letting his deity see. The slight pressure of the hand remained for a few minutes, before leaving. The warm mental embrace still remained and the younger dragon did not complain. His eyes drifted closed and he allowed himself to sink deeper into it. Then something occurred to him and he opened his eyes again,

"Father?"

"Hmm?"

"When your servants took me home from the whorehouse in Sigil… The final time. I think that it was like this. I don't… the drugs made everything fuzzy then but I remember that when they came to take me. It felt like… like this…"

"You were screaming. Screaming about the dead…" the dragon deity trailed off and slowly his embrace ebbed away. His eyes appeared distant and maybe even a little afraid, "Chelevva, I must go now."

"I… I understand."

"I will be watching over you, my hatchling."

"Thank you."

"Keep safe…"

With that the deity was gone and all that was left was a lone immortal sitting on the floor.

* * *

Tiamet opened his eyes.

His five heads instantly looked about in all direction before he replaced his central head on his paws. The other four heads remained upright for a moment longer before lowering; their eyes open only slightly, as bright slits of colour shining beneath closed lids.

The deity fought back the worry he felt for Chelevva. A significant portion of his immense intellect was already working on a thick mesh of protection and alarm spells. A variable army of avatars were going through the archives.

This avatar, however, was mulling over his son's words and his own memories.

* * *

_The twin dragons entered the hall, stopping to bow respectfully to the deity that lounged at the other end on a massive pile of coins. Tiamet was instantly before them, his eyes fixed on the screaming figure that struggled between the two._

"_Let me go! Let me go!" Chelevva's head instantly snapped to the side, "Quiet! Oh please…" his turned to look up at his deity, "Father! Why did you not take this power from me? Do you want me to suffer like this?"_

_The twins chanted silence spells. The younger dragon's lips continued to move but no sound emerged._

"_He is delirious, master."_

"_He has been talking about the dead-"_

"_-claiming that they speak to him-"_

"_-and he can not silence them."_

"_The dead?" Tiamet put his head to one side._

"_He has been taking narcotics, master."_

"_It could merely be a bad reaction."_

"_Hearing the dead…" muttered Tiamet again, "Could he perhaps mean my pentioners, here?"_

_Magic suddenly glowed and Tiamet sensed the silence spells being absorbed into Chelevva's core of magic. _

"_They are not your pentioners," the younger immortal's speech was free of hysteria but his eyes were fearful, "They are those beyond even your reach Father," his head lowered, "They say that I do not deserve this life which I have, even though I did not choose it," he looked up, straight at his father, "I did not choose to live Father… Why should this monster that I am continue to live this cursed life?"_


	5. Chapter V

**Jessi:** I would have had this update up sooner, however, this happened:

Jessi: turns computer on

Computer: dies

Repeat another fifty or so times and you get the general idea.

* * *

"Isn't it beautiful, Chel-seme?" Vale smiled, her happy expression apparent even from deep within the fur-lined hood. Her wolf-fur cloak, the hairs white and tipped with black, had been wrapped tightly around her as protection against the cold. 

During the night the winds had changed, bringing snow down from the mountains and blanketing the area in a thick white powder.

The young cleric headed out across the snow, her face alight with childish wonder. Chel watched her go. He'd always liked snow. There just was something about its pristine colour and beauty and how it looked so innocent settled on the ground like a immense carpet yet could be just as deadly as he in the right conditions.

He resettled the hood of his own cloak (black, of course) over his face. His skin still hadn't fully recovered its silver taint yet, making him looked pale and wasted.

A sharp jolt of panic shot through him as he realised that Vale was no where to be seen. He pulled down his hood and scanned the area, his heart racing.

Something hit the side of his head, icy powder falling inside his cloak. Giggling the young cleric jumped up from her hiding place, another snowball in her hand.

Her cheerful expression faded when she saw the haunted look in her guardian's pale eyes.

"I didn't hurt you did I, seme?" she dropped the snowball and returned to him, brushing the snow from the long strands of his hair. Chel's response was to pick her up and bury his head in the soft wolf fur.

Vale reached out with her mind, searching for Chel's emotions. They were surprisingly easy to find, usually the disciplined guardian had complete control of his feelings.

Fear was the main one, eating away at his mind like a cancer. Bringing her hands up to stroke his neck and face to sooth him she went deeper. Amidst the fear was shame, a common emotion within the depressed immortal. It was shame at the fear he felt. Yet there was another emotion, stronger than shame. It was a possessive feeling towards Vale, jealously holding her close and only grudgingly sharing her.

"Seme?" she whispered into his ear. Soon others would be coming out into the snow and it wouldn't help them if they were to be seen like together like this, "Can you move us somewhere else?"

Chel complied and in an instant they were in the Temple.

Vale reconised this place as one of the small alcoves that were sometimes used by members of the clergy for private meditation. A heavy curtain was drawn across the entrance, letting in no light and also keeping the cold out. A small brazier stood on waist-height shelf, making the small space pleasently warm. A few cushions were scattered on the floor and it was onto these that Chel sat, keeping a tight hold on Vale.

There was a long period of silence, Chel still not moving. Finally though he lifted his head from the warm cloak,

"Vale-uke... I have been a fool, have I not?"

"It was-"

"It was foolish of me to immediently presume you were in danger, " he brushed an imaginery strand of hair from his face, "But I fear that my reasons for my fear were selfish ones."

"How were they?"

"You brought me back from... from whatever that was last night... I was afraid that you would not be around me... to bring me back should it happen again."

"That's not selfish. You're not selfish, seme," she scratched behind one of his ears, causing him to purr softly, "How many times have you thrown yourself in the way for a blow that would have killed me? I know that you heal almost instantly," she added before Chel could protest, "but it still causes you pain, doesn't it? Sometimes..." she stopped her scratching, "I feel selfish for letting you and knowing that I wouldn't tell you stop because I am afraid of injury."

"It was nothing," the immortal shook his head and smiled, "You saw my emotions... I am quite attached to you," he paused, "Perhaps too attached but I am a victim of my own nature. We dragons covet beautiful things and once we have them we do tend to cling a little too tightly."

Vale smiled reassuringly,

"You do make me feel needed," grinning she hugged him closer, "Remember though... it isn't selfish to have what you want every once in a while."

"Hmm... speaking of things I want," he nuzzled her shoulder, "Scratch me behind the ears again, please?"

Vale laughed aloud at this and compiled, her smile only widening as he began purring again.

* * *

"Humph! Next time Chelevva you can do your _own _research," grumbled Tiamet under his breath. One of his heads glanced wearily at the long section of his archives that he still had to search. While his son got his ears scratched by a beautiful elven female the Dragon Deity was looking for anything like the creature that Chelevva's memories described. 

Of course there was more than one avatar combing these huge halls, but the knowlege in this place had been collected over many vast millemia. At least the protection spells were finished with, a task requiring great concentration.

Drumming his claws on the floor he glanced at the pages of the tome in front of him.

"Useless," he muttered, replacing the book with a casual spell, "What on the Planes was it?"

* * *

**Jessi:** The ear scratching thing was just too cute not to put in :) 


	6. Chapter VI

Jessi: Just a note: if you want to see any artwork for this story then it'll all be on my deviantart account. My username is Angel-links. There is currently... one Chronicle drawing but there will be more. I think the current picture is worth it: it's a picture of Chel looking pretty :3

Please bare in mind that I am a better writer than artist. :P

**

* * *

**"Murder! _Murder_!" a male elf staggered into the Temple, his arms cradling a still form against his chest. Blood dripped from the still elf's body, leaving a trail of crimson splatters on the floor and on the snow outside. 

Chel teleported to the entrance, after hastily straightening his clothing. The male elf, not much older than Vale, turned to him,

"Imperial Guardian, sir..." his face remained composed for a moment before he crumbled and burst into tears.

**

* * *

**The body of Elessa, the unfortunate victim, had been laid out on the smooth stone slab where the bodies were cleaned and dressed before meeting the cleansing touch of fire. The male elf, Alurien, was in one of the beds upstairs, currently under one of Chel's sleeping spells. 

A messenger had been sent to the girl's family and currently only three elves were present in the stone chamber, Chel, King Kerova and Othello, a high priest. Othello was muttering the rites over the body. Kerova was looking sadly down at the arrow that had been cut from the girl's stomach.

"Chel, Alurien mentioned humans..."

"Yes. Humans wearing a symbol of a fist squeezing green rays. That is the symbol of Bane," he touched his Star of Tiamet.

"What could they possibly want?" Kerova adjusted his cloak, wrapping it tightly around himself.

"Bane is an evil deity," said Chel, remembering that Vale's father like almost all of the elves here had not left their closeted civilisation, "The god of tyranny in fact. They would seek to rule."

"We would become slaves?" Kerova's eyes were wide with horror.

"Yes."

The king nodded, though his eyes were still sad. Like his daughter, Kerova was kind-hearted and loathed violence,

"How many will you take?" he knew what had to be done. If outsiders wandered into the Forest they either stayed here until their dying day or were subjected to a memory erasing spell. Violence, however, was met swiftly by violence.

"I will require only two Armsmen and four of the Guard."

"It will be done."

**

* * *

**The Armsmen were typical of their kind, serious warriors with thin, but strong frames. They carried a single long sword, deceptively delicate-looking blades, and were armoured in light chain mail. Tonight they also wore grey cloaks with the hoods pulled up to conceal their bright blonde hair. 

They flanked Chel on either side, none of them making a sound or leaving a trace.

Above them, out of sight, flew the Guards, the only sign of their presence was the occasional leathery flap of a wing.

The immortal made a gesture and the two Armsmen darted off in different directions.

With a sigh, Chel shrugged off his black cloak, making it vanish with only a though. Underneath he wore a simple robe. The thin material was torn, the hem now only a ragged line that ended just below his knees. His feet were bare.

He looked completely harmless, again a lost, innocent angel. He set off towards the campfires of the Baneites.

One of the sentries cried out as he saw him and Chel saw another sentry run over. The immortal kept his hands open by his sides, the universal submissive posture, but mentally braced himself for the pain he knew would come.

He was right. The arrow struck him in the thigh. He dropped to the ground, screaming.

The Baneite sentries approached, chuckling. Chel was busy, forcing the wound to remain open, letting the blood run down across his pale skin and onto the white powder.

The sentries had arrived and he looked up at them, keeping his eyes wide and letting little whimpers of pain escape his lips. One grinned, taking in Chel's beautiful face and reached for him.

That grin was still in face when his head fell to the snowy ground. Blood fountained up from the stump of his neck and the other sentry swore and drew his sword to face this lovely, unearthly being with fangs and claws.

Snarling Chel raked his claws across his opponent's throat, opening it up and spilling yet more blood onto the snow. With a grunt the immortal tore the arrow from his flesh and walked onto towards the Baneite camp, clothing himself in new black robes.

It was at that exact moment the Guards arrowed down onto the other, smaller campfires. Each set of wyvern and elf worked in perfect harmony, the elves working with their lances and sabres and the wyverns with their teeth and the deadly spike on the end of their tails.

The Armsmen also had sprung out of hiding, moving with wasp-like swiftness.

A priest of Bane cast a spell at Chel. The evil magic merely brushed the surface of his skin before vanishing without a trace. Chel lunged at the priest, his hands snapping the human's neck as easily as he would a twig.

Magic spun from his fingertips, golden strands flying through the air, burning all human flesh they came in contact with. Another three fighters fell to his hands.

He turned, his eyes glowing in the firelight and, as he went for his next opponent, he roared, a sound that was not meant to come from any elven throat.

**

* * *

**Not a single elf or wyvern had fallen tonight. All had bloodstained weapons. The wyverns lapped the red liquid from their teeth. 

"Imperial Guardian, sir?" one of the Armsmen bowed slightly, "They are all dead?"

Chel closed his eyes, sending out his immortal senses...

Pain gripped his back, a white-hot line of pain, running right through the muscles on his back and at the base of his right wing. He growled, swatting blindly at the threat.

His attacker sailed through the air to land in a drift of snow. Whether it was because of the soft landing or some innate stubbornness they got up again.

It was a human woman in leather armour, maybe in her thirties, carrying a short sword that was red with Chel's blood. One of the Armsmen walked towards her blade out.

The human did not look at him but instead directly at Chel,

"You deserved that you bastard!" tears were running down her face, "My children, you killed my _children_! _Child-killer_!" she ran straight for him, obviously to attack him again. The Armsman flicked his blade and she was dead.

"My lord? What was she saying?" Vale's people did not speak Common, but Chel ignored his question. Instead he walked slowly towards the remains of the Baneite camp.

He did not have to walk far to find them. Two humans, a brother and sister, lying dead in the snow, their swords still in their hands. Their throats were torn out, their clothing and armour stain bright red. Neither of them were over the age of sixteen.

Chel's hands flew to his mouth and, eyes wide, he backed away, moaning as if in pain.

"Sir? Are you badly injured?"

Chel ignored him. He had killed children. Children...

"Oh god..." he whispered, he was no better... no better than Tiamat!

He threw his head back and screamed, vanishing in a burst of light.


	7. Chapter VII

**Jessi:** God, I want Christmas to be here... I want sleep! Not to mention the free time and presents :P But then again- mock AS exams in January... sigh.

* * *

Some sixth sense caused Vale to look up from her prayers. The young cleric was kneeling in the main hall of the Temple, facing the huge statue of Tiamet. It was late and the beguiling smell of incense had her sleepily when combined with the warmth given off by her holy symbol and the carvings on the floor.

She lowered her hands, puzzled. On a whim the princess looked over her shoulder.

Two Armsmen were passing the open doorway. Ruby flecks of blood stained their cloaks...

Vale frowned and got to her feet, genuflecting towards the statue of Tiamet and swiftly and silently followed. The Armsmen didn't notice her, deep in a whispered conversation between themselves. Without looking up they entered the twin doors of the War room- again another relic from the orc siege of centuries ago.

"This is foolish..." muttered the elven princess, but the nonetheless she put her eye to the gap between the doors. What was that saying the humans had? Curiosity killed the cat? Well, she was no cat!

"Offeryn? Llestr?" her father was sitting at the long stone table, a confused expression on his face, "I wasn't expecting you... Usually Chel reports back... Did the mission go as planned?"

"Yes, your Highness. There are no Baneites remaining," one the Armsmen replied, "However, afterwards... After the battle the Imperial Guardian was acting most strangely."

"He vanished from the camp... we have not seen him since."

Her father made a reply but Vale did not hear it. She backed away from the door, her hand over her mouth. She turned and ran down the corridor, darting into the first alcove she came across.

"Oh god, please be all right, please be all right," she frantically chanted under her breath, dragging the curtain back across the entrance. She sat down abruptly, trying to clear her mind so she could concentrate on her task.

One of her abilities was that she could search for Chel through the mental link they shared. It was not all that powerful, she could only sense him if he was in a three-mile radius and only if he wanted to be found but still...

She concentrated, forming a picture of her guardian in her mind then sending it outwards. Nothing came back...

She tried again and again, trying to surpass the range of her ability but all to no avail.

Finally she sat back, nervously gnawing on her thumb. Her mind kept giving her images of a injured Chel helpless in a ditch somewhere... even though she knew that the thought was ridiculous.

She hugged her knees tightly, as she always did when Chel was not around to sooth her fears. The young cleric knew that despite all the power that the immortal possessed, despite all his intelligence, despite all he had done in his long, long lifetime he was more vulnerable than she was in a way.

"Tiamet... please keep him safe."

* * *

Tiamet lifted his heads sharply from the various ancient tomes he'd been studying. He stayed absolutely still, even the distant rustle of paper from where his other avatars were at work halted. His ears swivelled and spun, to better catch what he thought he heard...

The noise again, reached his ears. A soft whimpering noise coming from a distant corner.

He padded down the Hall of Archives, his heads surveying every direction. One head swung around a corner to check seeing nothing unusual...

The deity's head turned back. There in the corner was huddled a little form in black robes and with white wings. His knees were drawn up to his chest, his arms were resting on top of them and his face was buried in the shelter of his limbs. The whimpering noises were coming from him.

"Chelevva?" Tiamet anxiously approached and for the second time in such a short while he spoke the words: "My child what is wrong?"

Chel's elven face turned towards him and his thin arms reached out for the deity. The Dragon Deity scooped him up gently in one massive paw, holding him close to his central head. The other four hovered close by.

"F-father," the younger dragon's voice trembled badly and his hands were shaking, "I've done a terrible thing."

* * *

"Why is Vale-chan not with you?" Tiamet flew through the air of his realm, towards Chel's lair, at the younger immortal's request.

"I do not want her to see me like this," Chel was curled up in a ball, safely clutched in his father's claw, "I do not want her to know what I've done... I've killed _children_ Father!"

"Chelevva..."

"Think of how many _I_ killed for such an act. I've always been so much harsher-"

"You have always had a high moral code and you worked much justice in my name, Chelevva," he beamed at the younger dragon, "You have been no harsher with child killings than you have with rape or other murders."

"But whenever I found the ones responsible for the murder of children I always killed with anger. I think... What if I enjoyed it?"

"I know you better than that. Killing has never been something you enjoyed, you did it because it was necessary or in the defence of others. It was always something that had to be done, my hatchling."

"Do not call me hatchling. It implies that I am innocent, free of guilt, which I most certainly am not," he seemed to collapse on himself, "I am a monster."

Tiamet looked down at his child,

"You'll always be my hatchling, no matter what you believe you have done."

"Father... why did you let me live?"

The question took the deity aback,

"Chelevva... please," he landed neatly on three legs, "How could I have not? You were just a hatchling and you'd been injured so badly... Do you think I would let my own son die before my eyes..." he cast his eyes downwards, "I truly wish that you'd been spared this pain and I..." he swallowed, "I tried to modify the memories, to make you forget, but doing that, with your fragile mind, would have destroyed it ultimately. You would have been left mindless, an empty shell."

"Sometimes I think it would have been better for everyone if I did have no mind."

* * *

**Jessi:** The curiosity thing is from me. It's one of my frequent sayings :) Curiosity killed the cat, not the Jessi. 


	8. Chapter VIII

**Jessi: **A new Chronicle drawing is up on deviant art. This one of Vale and Chel (aww). You can see it by clicking the homepage link in my profile.

* * *

Set into the earth of Mercuria, quite unexpectedly, were a pair of colossal silver doors. The unblemished surface was decorated with any images of dragon, stars, trees and many other beautiful things. In the centre was a huge symbol, the plain, five-pointed Star of Tiamet. 

Not only were the double doors a work of art to ordinary eyes but certain beings could see its other stranger face. Powerful wards and enchantments were worked into the very metal, creating beguiling patterns in the very Weave itself.

Both the doors and the magic contained within them was the work of Chelevva Pendragon and similarly the lair behind those doors was his.

The doors were open for the first time since Chel's departure from Mercuria, over four thousand years ago. Many dragons had arrived to investigate but found themselves repelled by spells about the entrance. A variable hoard of wyrms, for many, especially females, made their own lairs near his, had hovered nearby but they had all left by now.

This suited Chel just fine. The immortal was back in his true shape, that of a massive dragon with platinum scales tinted with silver. Ever since his father left he'd been slumped over a pile of coins.

He had not stirred.

Neither had the sick feeling deep within his chest.

The only thing that moved was the streams of blood, trickling down his leg.

* * *

Above the ever-changing realm of Concordant Tiamet flew. Four of his heads scanned the ground and air, though this was more of an old habit than anything else, he knew that there were few beings with the power to cause his any lasting damage and even less who were mad enough to try. His central head remained fixed on his destination, the House of Knowledge, realm of the mammal god Oghma. 

Tiamet was slightly annoyed at the necessity of this trip. It stung his pride somewhat that his archives had failed him, especially because he was a god of knowledge himself. Yet... for Chelevva he would do anything... suffer any pain gladly.

He was slightly guilty at leaving him in his lair. However, he reminded himself, his hatchling had requested to be left alone and if he were in any serious trouble the deity could be there in a heartbeat.

He dove lower, the scales of his underbelly almost scraping the roofs of the buildings below him. The downdraft from his wings, had it gone unchecked, could have easily flattened anything. On the ground, beings as diverse as goodly paladins and demon lords looked up, always with some small spark of fear.

The deity landed elegantly in front of the other god's realm, not as elegantly as Chelevva could of course, his son was infinitely more graceful in the air and that made Tiamet glad, flying seemed to be one of the few things that his son took pleasure in.

Making his shape smaller, in comparison twenty-four foot tall was smaller, the platinum deity entered the House of Knowledge.

Like the plane of Concordant itself, the House of Knowledge changed its appearance every few hours. Currently it looked like a human monastery and, much to Tiamet's dismay, smelt _and_ tasted like one too. The Dragon Deity managed to restrain himself from tasting the musty air with his tongue, and hoped desperately that it wouldn't remain this way for much longer.

"Lord Tiamet! This_ is_ a surprise!" Oghma appeared in the entrance, his surprise genuine. Amongst the gods Tiamet was a recluse of sorts. Tiamet also knew that most watched him constantly, waiting for him to trip up. As the only dragon deity left he had many portfolios, many of them conflicting.

I didn't come here to be treated as some sort of joke, he though. Just try anything Oghma. I've been a deity before _your_ race had even crawled out of the primordial ooze.

His cuddly exterior, as both Vale and Chel called it, did conceal a sharp and cunning mind.

All he spoke out loud, however, was,

"It is good to see you, Lord Oghma," he nodded one head towards the mammal god. The Binder took the form of a dark-skinned human in monk's robes. His voice was like a choir singing in perfect harmony, a sound that was very pleasing to Tiamet's keen ears and predisposed him to like the other deity.

"What brings you to my, currently, humble domain?" Oghma made a sweeping gesture at his home.

"Alas it is not a social call," Tiamet sat down, curling his wickedly barbed tail around himself, "I am seeking information."

"You know the price, knowledge in exchange for knowledge."

Tiamet nodded, his worshippers did something similar, exchanging treasure for his own knowledge. He waved one of his front paws in the air, and a thick bundle of parchment tied with white cords appeared.

Oghma looked on with interest, The parchment was of many different kinds and sizes, the notes handwritten with diagrams scattered between them, seemingly at random.

"These," said Tiamet, "are the original notes of Guillaume and Cirjon de Cheirdon. A rare find I think you'll agree."

"The half-elf sages?" the human deity glanced at the first page, "Of course, you would have their study of dragons, wouldn't you?"

"Believe me when I say that they were surprisingly accurate," the Dragon Deity smiled. Of course the sages only knew what dragonkind wanted them to know. And of course the manuscript was of no use to a dragon. The wyrms had very few doubts about their own race, "These are the originals remember. The released version was highly edited. Apparently they had a little trouble with a red great wyrm."

"And what is it that you wish to know?"

"It is private research. I merely wish to use your archives," Chelevva would be kept out of this, vowed the dragon god.

The Binder sighed but took the notes. A second later he flinched as what appeared to be a small tornado (actually a army of Tiamet's avatars) began their search.

* * *

**Jessi:** Merry Christmas everyone! 


	9. Chapter IX

**Jessi:** A nice long break for Christmas, just what I needed :)

* * *

The snow was beginning to melt and instead of pristine white powder there was slush. Making a face Vale hitched her priest robes up, it would not do to get her formal robes wet and dirty. She shuddered as that thought passed through her head: she was starting to sound like Balachder. Maybe she could persuade her guardian or her father to let her go from her etiquette lessons. Both weren't especially keen on them anyway. 

The princess let her robes fall around her when she reached the inside of the Temple. Unlike her normal robes, her formal set had a train that trailed behind her. The blue sash and under-robe were covered in platinum symbols and the black over-robe was edged in silver.

Surprisingly, the formal robes also came with a dagger that was tucked into the sash, despite the clothing being ridiculously unsuitable for fighting.

The young cleric hurried along the corridors.

Today a Calling Ceremony had been announced. A Calling Ceremony was usually done if someone had been missing for five days, but she supposed that it had been moved forward for Chel. They needed him here.

Two days and not a sign of him.

The only other occupant of the main hall was her father. In a normal Calling Ceremony the family of the missing one would be here. Although, thought Vale, Chel's father was present here.

She knelt in front of the statue, her hands clasped in her lap. Her father smiled, for once dressed in his kingly attire, and not the plain tunic and breeches or hunting leathers that he preferred.

Both elves closed their eyes, offering up their prayers to Tiamet.

_Please Lord, please him back unharmed. Please, don't let anything happen to him,_ Vale shuddered as the image of Chel on the Temple floor with white, blind eyes came to her, _I could not bare to lose him anymore than you could Lord Tiamet._

* * *

At that very moment Chel was wandering the spacious corridors of his lair. His tail dragged on the floor and the tips of his wings similarly scraped the floor. He was blind to the beauty of this place, the graceful carvings that he himself had created so many years ago... centuries... millennia ago. 

He thought briefly of seeking out his father, but decided against it.

Does he only tolerate me because I carry the blood of his mate? Because every time he looks at me he sees Kereska's face?

He growled at this thought and in one smooth movement brought his one of his forepaws across his face, seeking to mar the delicate features. His claws were only able to lightly wound himself, his scales staving off most of the blow.

An idea occurred to him and he glanced about him, seeing where his wandering had taken him. A short walk led him to a small doorway that was barely large enough to admit even his elf form. There were wards on the door as well, the strongest the dragon could cast, many of them of his own invention.

With a thought, Chel changed himself into his elven form, his long, slender fingers forming the gestures needed to pass the door. At once the stone surface rippled and the young immortal passed through.

* * *

_It was cold here where once it had been warm. Still the urge to sleep was strong. It fought that urge, needing to be aware for this, for what it must do. _

_Gathering the remaining shreds of power to itself it focused on its new target, an additional one, stronger than the other but still deaf to its cries. Shivering, at least it would have had it had a body, it prepared to..._

_A new presence! It whirled around, but the new one was stronger here, reaching out along the pathways it had so carefully made to its targets. But instead of warning, hate ran down towards them._

* * *

In the Temple, everything briefly became white before Vale's closed eyes. The elven princess' eyes snapped open, her hand dropping to her dagger.

* * *

Across the Multiverse, avatars of Tiamet hissed as if they felt... something. A sudden chill, a watching eye or a sound just on the edge of hearing.

* * *

In Mercuria, Chel moaned as pain blossomed across his head, his elven body shivering and his skin fading to corpse white.

* * *

Vale looked around the room. The Temple Hall was completely normal, filled with the sunlight that streamed in through the wide windows. Her vision was normal too... 

Her father was still praying beside her, as though nothing had happened.

The young cleric reached up and touched her holy symbol, feeling the warmth that was there. Somehow it didn't reassure her as it usually did.

* * *

Chel's head lolled gently, the pain just a brief memory and lost among the rest. His eyes glazed over.

* * *

Tiamet picked up the table he had knocked over in the House of Knowledge, offering a hand, apologetic smiles and healing to the small scholar that had been underneath it. 

His feeling of unease did not leave though and the crest along his back was still raised. His tongue flicked out to taste the air again and his heads writhed in the air, making sure that there was nothing that he could not see.

* * *

_It slipped away from the angry presence, regretting its discovery. It had another plan though and it reached out for its last servant, whispering its instructions. _


	10. Chapter X

Oghma didn't need his immortal senses to tell him that something was wrong. The House of Knowledge, usually filled with the noise of bards and scholars alike, was completely silent. The fact that the edge of the tome he was reading was smouldering was also a hint.

The Binder restored the book with a wave of his hand and looked up.

Tiamet was sat in front of him. His teeth were bared and his crest slightly raised. Whether it was from some effect of his human shape or genuine dislike of pain, Oghma couldn't help noticed that those teeth were long and sharp.

In one paw the dragon deity held two tomes- tome that Oghma knew well.

One was a large volume, the beautiful pages crafted from starlight. The black covers were decorated with stars and on the spine were two simple bands of white gold. On the metal was stamped the image of a star, five-pointed with two points extended.

The other was a slimmer volume, bound in demon hide and Oghma knew that the words inside were written in blood. The cover was stamped many times with a different symbol, that of five dragon heads- a red, a blue, a black, a green and a white dragon- that formed the shape of a star.

"I believe, Oghma," the dragon deity's voice was calm, disturbingly so, "that all these tomes were to be turned over to me," he held the slimmer volume aloft, a difficult feat with dragon paws, "_especially _these things. Were you not aware of the dangers of the Tomes of Tiamat?"

"It is perfectly secure here I assure-"

"_Secure_?" Tiamet roared, "It was sitting on your shelves Oghma. This thing is just as dangerous as the _Cyrinishad_! I will be taking this."

"You can't-" Oghma stopped as the Dragon Lord glared.

"I can and I will. I am the only one that can secure my sister's tomes."

With that Tiamet vanished from the House of Knowledge.

* * *

Vale and Kerova stepped out of the Temple, stretching their stiff limbs. 

"I do hope that he'll return soon," the elven king looked across at his daughter smiling reassuringly, "We do depend on him a lot here."

The high priestess nodded absently, staring off into the distance. The male elf noticed and patted her shoulder,

"He's alright."

"I know that, but that doesn't stop me worrying, Father."

"I worry about him too, Vale. He been like a parent to the both of us... sometimes I wish there was something we could do to help him."

"I know what you mean... I..." she trailed off, knowing that she could not tell anyone, not even her father, her greatest secret. What really worried her was the fact that Tiamet had not told her where Chel was. That meant that even her deity could not find him or that he was... Tiamet's replies to her prayers, even when she prayed for spells, had been almost... vague, as though he were distracted or busy.

A high-pitched scream caught her attention and both she and her father turned in its direction.

A group of about five elves were running towards the Temple... Even from that distance Vale could see the crimson blood flowing from more than one of them. What scared her though was what was pursuing them... undead.

A straggling elf was grabbed by one of the leading undead, a zombie. She fell to the floor, screaming as she saw the rotting face of her assailant. The zombie opened its mouth to reveal jagged yellow teeth and came down to bite...

Vale's blink spell brought her right up to the zombie,

"In the name of Tiamet, go back to the Abyss that spawned you!" the holy symbol in her hand glowed brightly and, howling, the zombie, as well as several others around it, disintegrated. She turned to the prone female, "Run!"

She brandished her holy symbol at the next group of undead as more as more of them came from between the trees.

* * *

Tiamet teleported himself into his lair, into his treasure chamber. It was a huge room, having been extended over the centuries to make room for the sheer amount of treasure in Tiamet's hoard. Only he himself knew the value of his hoard. 

He threw himself onto a pile of coins, that would have easily dwarfed a good-sized hill. After a few twists to make himself comfortable ( to a dragon a pile of coins feels just like a comfortable, if slightly lumpy, mattress) he glanced at the other tome he'd taken from Oghma's domain.

It was one of Kereska's books, not only did it have her symbol on the cover, but it also had the beauty common to the goddess's possessions.

He sighed, gently touching the cover. He did miss his mate, very much so. For a moment the deity just lay there, staring at the book, lost in memories of her. Thoughts of Kereska led to thoughts of Chel and he decided to check on the younger immortal.

He vanished from his lair and all was quiet and still.

After a few minutes had gone by the book stirred as though picked up by an invisible hand. Then it too vanished.

* * *

Vale soon knew that it was hopeless to fight the army of undead. Even though some of the Armsmen and Guard had joined her with the Scouts and Clergy in support, more kept coming. 

She slashed at another zombie with her dagger, the small blade glowing with the effect of one of her cleric spells, a spell that made the undead's wounds burn with holy light. She followed that up with a volley of magic missiles.

On the left flank an Armsman fell and was set upon by a dozen zombies who began to tear at his flesh. He only stopped screaming when one tore off his head.

"Get back!" she screamed at the undead, her holy symbol glowing once more. This time, however, it only made the zombies and skeletons pause briefly before they came on again.

The young cleric bit her lip before screaming out,

"_Retreat_! Retreat to the Temple! Fall back!"

The warriors about her complied and turned, sprinting towards the white stone steps. A small group of Armsmen were cut off from the Temple by a thick press of zombies. Two fireballs, one from Vale, the other from another sorcerer on a high walkway, took care of them.

The high priestess darted away, running towards the sanctuary of the holy ground. Abruptly she fell forward, straight onto her face, her dagger falling from her hand. She looked behind her to see a zombie standing on the train of her robe, reaching out for her.

A roar sounded from behind her and a shape leapt over her head. Gram, the wyvern patriarch, tore through the zombie's body with his teeth, sweeping more of the hoard off their feet with his tail. He hissed warningly, his eyes narrowed and his head snapping out to attack a skeleton, crushing it with his powerful jaws.

He turned,

"Get on princess!" Vale obeyed the hissing command, gathering up her dagger, which was even now losing its enchantment, and quickly scrambled up onto the wyvern's back. With a last roar, Gram launched himself into the air, his wings flapping powerfully, heading for the Temple.

"Gram... thank you..."

The wyvern growled, almost affectionately, his claws scrabbling for purchase on the smooth stone of the entrance. Vale slid off and passed through the doors, while the battle-scarred wyvern flung himself off the Temple stairway, heading for the safety of the treetops.

Once Vale was inside the Temple the doors were slammed closed, the five iron bars dropped into the place. It was not long before the undead began to hammer their fists upon the door.


	11. Chapter XI

**Jessi:** I had to write this twice. Stupid computer deleted my work:(

* * *

Tiamet raised his paws to his central head. The sheer volume of prayers coming from his elevn worshippers was deafening, drowning out other, solitary prayers. He concentrated harder, picking out individual words and phrases.

_...zombies and skeletons. They got Aasaka and tore Gato to pieces..._

_The others didn't make it here, they fled to the walkways. I think they destroyed the stairs up to it. Tiamet, please..._

_They've barred the doors. I don't know whether it'll hold out..._

_Tiamet, please, keep us safe._

_SAVE US!_

Tiamet drew his consciousness back to his surroundings. This was where Chelevva was apparently, though he was nowhere to be seen. The deity then spotted the tiny door set into the wall and sent his mind out to probe the defenses he sensed.

These wards were indeed powerful and subtly layered too, making them hard to identify and destroy. However, he was a god of magic.

He willed himself forward, sinuously passing the wards, sliding by undetected.

The Dragon Lord reappeared on the other side, his form smaller, a mere six feet from the ground to the tips of his horns. His tongue flicked out automatically to taste the air before he could stop himself.

The air tasted of blood.

The room smelt of blood too and, Tiamet glanced down, the floor was covered with the stuff too.

That was nothing compared to what the deity saw on the walls.

Instruments of torture hung there, evil devices from across the Multiverse, from blades delicate enough to strip the skin from a mortal's frame to slender needles to be heated up and placed under the fingernails to a massive iron maiden, complete with a face, empty slits acting as mouth and eyes.

However, the chair where the victim sat had no straps, no restraints to hold them in place. The victim sat there of their own free will.

"Oh... Chelevva... You use all of these on _yourself_... Don't you?"

Propped up against the wall was Chel himself. In his delicate elven hand he held a scourge, the business end covered with wicked bards to tear and rend the flesh deeply with every strike. Strangly, the handle was also covered in barbs, to harm the weilder as well, alothough Tiamet thought, in Chelevva's case it made perfect sense.

Both ends of the weapon were stained with blood as were the various instruments strewn carelessly on the floor about the younger immortal. The long white strands of his hair were spread out on the bloody floor. Chel was naked except for a covering of dried blood.

"Chelevva..." Tiamet gently picked up his son, drawing him close to his central head, "Your forest home is in trouble, my hatchling. You must go."

The younger immortal looked up, just long enough to see that his eyes were slightly misty. They always were after they recently regrew. Then he was gone.

Tiamet turned away and a few shining tears fell to the floor to be swallowed up by the blood.

* * *

Chel's planeshift was easy, it was another ability that came naturally to him with his divine blood. He even managed to cloth himself on the way.

Abruptly he was jerked to one side, his body jolting. Everything went black only to be replaced by a large cavern. The dragon's immortal senses could tell him nothing, other than he was not in the Prime Material Plane.

Before him stood a dragon... a truely ancient wyrm.

The years had worn this dragon down, even his scales looked like paper stretched over his bones. Chel couldn't even tell what type of dragon he was, time had worn down his body and his outline was blurred and indistict. Even the colour of his scales was so pale and washed out that it was impossible to discern it.

"Child of the gods, greetings," a dozen voices came from the dragon's mouth.

Chel opened his mouth to reply but found himself unable to move.

"You are cannot move in this place. Fear not, you will not be here for long. Soon you will be able to continue on your path, the one that you yourself have always forged. But now," a sorrowful expression crossed the strange dragon's face, "another seeks to control you to make you walk the road he has laid out for you.

"He has been waiting for this for many years, since before the blood of dragon god's stained the Planes he has been waiting and watching and now his servants are reaching out, awaking," he stretched his paw out, revealing a plain wooden box, "and in time you will need this."

He pressed it into Chel's hands,

"Goodbye Godchild."

Then as suddenly as he had arrived he left.

* * *

The mysterious box had to be forgotten when he arrived at the Prime Material Plane. As soon as he materialized a zombie swiped at him just as another made to bite the immortal. Hissing, Chel shoved the box into his bag of holding. With a shouted word he summoned positive energy to his hands, thursting the glowing light in the direction of the undead.

They recoiled automatically, the undead being creatures of negative energy but could not move far away enough in the mob.

Chel's claws tore through at least half-a-dozen of them, the positive energy causing them to disingerate.

Another zombie hissed and attacked. From Chel's hands sprang red threads that ate into the flesh of the creatures while he leapt into the air, his wings taking upwards. Force magic flattened another group crushing them into dust.

He wasn't even sure what happened next. The battle just passed him by while he fought in a kind of trance. Magic flowed to his hands naturally, the gestures and incantations subconscious.

There could only be one conclusion, however, and in the end Chel was the victor.

He was dimly aware of figures slowly exiting the Temple but before they even got close, he'd already vanished.


	12. Chapter XII

A bath was what he needed. Wash all the blood off and he'll be fine. Chel rubbed his hands together in an uncharicteristic burst of fear, then he growled. He was being ridiculous. Still...

He'd seen the looks on their faces when he stood there, covered in his own blood, his skin still not quite fully healed. He ran a finger down his arm, feeling the many ridges where the knives had cut through the skin.

What he feared most was _her _reaction. He recalled their conversations and the smile that had graced her features when he told her that he'd stopped this, that she had helped him stop this. How could he explain away this... this...

"Relapse?"

The dragon jumped at the soft voice coming from the doorway of his private bath.

Vale stood there, still in her formal robes, her hands clasped as if in prayer,

"Your thoughts are all over the place. I could hear them..." she moved across the floor, walking towards him as if he were a wounded animal, slowly, her voice and words calming. Still the immortal regarded her with wide, frightened eyes, his muscles tense, ready to run if he needed to "I'm not going to hurt you Chel," then realising the source of his fear she added, "I'm not angry at you, seme."

He relaxed then, allowing her to kneel and wrap her arms around him. She wanted to talk to him, telling him how worried she'd been and of all that had happened, but it was not the time for that. Instead she looked about her surroundings,

"You want a bath, seme?"

In way of an answer he gestured with a blood-covered hand and the bath was suddenly filled with warm water. His gently sat up again, his fingers working at the silver clasps of his robes. They seemed strangly nerveless, almost if they were numb, far from the normal graceful motions.

Vale undid the clasps instead, her fingers working quickly and nimbly.

"...I am sorry, Vale-uke for what I have done."

"Hmm?" the young cleric looked up, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her eyes.

"For... relapsing. For wasting all of your hard work."

"Seme... it was not a burden to help you. Besides," she took both of his hands in hers, "you have an illness and you can't expect it to just vanish. Like a wound it'll take time to heal."

Chel laid his head on her shoulder, saying nothing. The young cleric merely stroked the long strands of his hair, hoping that the message had sunk in.

* * *

It was early in the morning when Chel was roused by a soft knocking on the door. His eyes snapped open, his slit pupils opening wide in the darkness of his room. Only his keen hearing picked up the sound, Vale didn't stir.

The elven princess was using him as a pillow, her head resting on his shoulder and one arm draped loosely over his chest, her golden skin contrasting with his pale flesh. His hand rested on the small of her back, keeping her close.

Ignoring the repeated knocking he gently ran a finger over her delicate features. Elves... they were so soft and fragile, compared to his own species and when he'd first seen them he hadn't known whether to laugh or pity these strange little creatures. Yet time and time again they still managed to amaze him, achieving amazing things despite being dwarfed by the world around them.

He wished only to remain here with Vale, to watch her sleep, but the knocking continued unabated.

Sighing he slid out of bed, lowering his lover carefully down onto the matteress. He pulled the quilts up over her bare shoulders and summoned a piece of parchment. As he clothed his own unclad body in black robes he composed a quick note in his head, transferring it to the parchment sheet with a spell.

Teleporting across the Heir's Palace he pulled open the door before the Armsman on the other side could embark on another volley of knocking.

"Yes?" he asked as the elf bowed deeply.

"Imperial Guardian, sir, we have a problem."

* * *

The problem was, again, the undead. This time, however, they were massing at the western edge of the forest but appeared to be unable to enter. Still, the king ordered patrols to be reinforced across the forest.

Now Chel sat alone in the War Room, his attention drawn away from the large map that was spread out on the table. His head was resting in one hand while the other idly traced the black ink lines on the map.

A small knock sounded at the door and he looked up to see Vale enter the room. He waited until she'd shut the door behind her before teleporting to her and picking her up,

"Vale-uke."

Her smile was brillant and she held him close with one hand while the other rid him of his black headscarf.

"'Morning seme! I got your note, how is your planning going?" she said, reffering to the battle plans her guardian was supposed to be drawing up.

"Alas, not very well,"he carried her to his place at the table, sitting her down next to him.

"Poor Chel," a mock sorrowful expression crossed her face and she ruffled his hair affectionately, "Do you mind if I stay with you? It must be lonely here," she had some of her work with her, a book on dragonolgy she was supposed to be studying, but she's already cast it aside, turning to face her dragon.

"Sometimes it is..." Chel trailed off, a slight silver blush on his cheekbones.

Vale reached out and trailed a delicate finger along his jaw, up to the sensative ear tips. The dragon twitched, a tiny gasp escaping him. The young cleric's grin only widened when he reached out for her.

* * *

Kerova, king of the forest, smiled as he entered the Temple. He was indeed glad that Chel had come back and so it seemed was Vale. He'd seen his daughter earlier, in her usual tomboyish attire but with the addition of a long, white scarf covered with delicate patterns of leaves in pale green. She had definitely cheered up.

The elven king's plan was to see how the battle plans were progressing and see his daughter and her guardian too. All too often his duties as ruler took him away from them both, no matter how many times he didn't show up to his court, like today.

Since he was avoiding his advisors, who still considered him an elfling, even though he was in his fourth century now, he stealthily made his way to the War Room. Grinning, he opened the doors...

He stopped, stunned at the sight that was been played out before him.

The black-clad elf was staddling the waist of the slender elf beneath him, her scarf in one hand. His robes were undone, falling from his shoulders. One slender long-fingered hand had vanished underneath Vale's shirt. Currently his eyes were closed and he was running his tongue along the female's neck.

The princess's scarf turned out to be hiding a purpling love bite on her neck (a souvenir of the night before, though Kerova, of course, did not know that). Chel's arm was pillowing her head and her hands were tangled in his long hair. Her mouth was moving though Kerova could not hear what she was saying. Chel evidentially did because he smiled, moving to look her in the eyes, words already on his lips.

He froze and turned to look at Kerova, his eyes wide and his face blazing with silver. Vale frowned, wondering what was wrong before an identical expression of shock made its way onto her face.

Kerova then finally managed to speak,

"W-what, what...?" then his face hardened and Chel and Vale flinched, "_How dare you_!"

* * *

**Jessi:** Whenever I try to study I get distracted too... though I can safely say never in _that_ way. 


	13. Chapter XIII

**Jessi:** Ugh. Been so busy this week: two lots of English coursework, one Biology essay that managed to commit suicide on the day it was due, planning my birthday celebrations, writer's block and a least half-a-dozen new books to read, three of them manga. Also I've been working on some drawings for the Chronicles that'll probaly be up in a week or two. In addition to all this I've discovered Coheed and Cambria, a brillant progressive rock band.

Felt a lil' guilty about interrupting Chel and Vale's... "private time" but I'll make it up to them.

* * *

Five minutes after Kerova had walked in on them, the shouting match was still in full swing. Suprisingly, it was mainly between Chel and Kerova. 

Early on the elven king had implied that the immortal had taken his daughter against her will. The guardian had taken that as a slight to his honour. His rage was manifesting itself visably, his claws already out and his speech slightly mangled as his fangs kept trying to grow out.

Vale was the only one of the three who noticed other elves peeking around the corner. It was the middle of the afternoon and there were plenty of elves here, from laypeople to the acolytes. She could here the whispering from here.

"Chel?" she whispered but her voice was drowned out by her guardian's continuing argument,

"_Thurclax vaecaesin, pothoc_!" without realising it he'd slipped back into his first birth-tongue, Anicent Draconic.

Vale sighed, burying her face in Chel's dark robes. A burst of melodic laughter reached her ears, before being hastily muffled.

Abruptly she shoved her guardian off her, the movement taking him by surprise and making him topple backwards onto the table.

"Vale?"

"Uke?"

The high priestess swept past her father, not even glancing at him, her glare directed at the various curious faces. Those faces turned fearful as they saw the platinum sparks that crackled among the princess' hair.

"_Go away_!" screamed Vale, her pretty face twisted into an angry expression. Even without the sparks, that angry cast to her features would have been enough to drive them away.

She waited until they'd all gone before the tears started to flow.

* * *

Vale nibbled her thumb nervously, flinching when anyone happened to glance in her direction. No one could see her though, she'd renewed her invisabilty spell just a few minutes ago. 

The illusion wouldn't even be nessacary if she and Chel hadn't been caught yesterday... well not so much that as the screaming match the three of them had had. It had of course drawn the attention of every elf in the Temple and now every elf in the Forest knew.

So today rumours had been flying about the population, becoming more and more exaggerated. She'd heard, eavesdropping in her invisable state, seeminly every story imaginable from one that they'd had been engaged in full-blown sex there (she would have been the first admit that, while it certainly had been heading in that direction, Chel would have at least teleported them back home) to the one that she was now carrying his child and was about to be banished in disgrace.

A hand clasped her shoulder as another muffled the small scream she uttered.

_It is me._

She glanced over her shoulder. Chel was standing behind her although he had his own spell of invisabilty up. Vale could sense him though, and, of course, she would know that telapathic call anywhere. She leant back against him, happy that he was here that and that at least one being here was on his side.

* * *

The undead were a seething mass below them hastily erected platform, which was in actuality a rope bridge that had been moved here. 

Vale stood to one side with her guardian, her father at the centre with his advisors and four bodyguards. He looked across at his daughter and her guardian more than once, regret in his wide, blue eyes.

"Be careful Chel-seme," throwing caution to the wind, she flung her arms around him, burying her head in the crook of his neck, feeling that reassuring pulse.

"Everything will be fine," said the immortal, returning her hug and dropping a kiss on the top of her head, ignoring the growing murmers from the crowd.

They parted sadly and Vale watched as her dragon flung himself off the platform.

* * *

Chel arrowed towards the undead, his wings folded to increase his speed. His claws snapped out, already glowing with positive energy. A hiss escaped him and he mentally willed himself to go faster, eager to work out his fustration in battle. The immortal had already targeted a group of zombies and he struck out at them. 

Only to have his claws pass straight through them, meeting no resistance at all.

_An illusion!_

The entire undead army suddenly flickered and vanished... leaving only Chel on the field.

Confused, the guardian landed, folding his wings behind his back, his pale eyes scanning the horizon, searching for something...

His immortal senses were suddenly alive and screaming at him. Instantly Chel turned to see-

* * *

Up on the platform the high priestess watched with growing horror as her immortal was flung backwards with tremendous force onto an outcroping of rock. Huge boulders sailed through the air to crash into the same outcropping, emtombing him within. 

"_Chel-seme_!" she screamed, only partly aware of the Armsmen holding her back, away from the edge.

* * *

Vale's concern seemed to be misplaced as Chel arose from his intented grave, his body with no more substance than a ghost's. He immediently solidfied himself as he cleared the rocks, his gaze fixed on his opponent. 

It stood at little way away, no bigger than his own elf form. Its gender and species were uncertain, wrapped as it was in a ragged brown cloak and cowl.

"Why?" snarled Chel, "Why are you here? Why do you attack them?" he guestured at the forest and the watching elves

A solomn voice came from beneath the hood but it was also dry and harsh, as though it had be unused for an age,

"I do not care about them. I am here for you," and now there was a smile in its words, "Chelevva Pendragon."

* * *

**Jessi:** Or not (insert dramatic music here). 


	14. Chapter XIV

**Jessi: **This chapter would have been up yesterday but that was my birthday :D Looking forward to see how this year turns out (sixteen was a good age).

* * *

Chel's face remained passive but, hidden by his volumious sleeves, his claws extended. 

"Where did you hear that name?"

The immortal had not gone by that name for four thousand years. Only to a few select beings had he revealed his true name and origins. Of those few (easily counted on one hand) only Vale was still alive.

"I have always known you," the harsh voice paused, "...always."

"And why would you be looking for me?"

The ragged edge of the cloak flapped briefly in the wind. A hand of skeletal thiness with claw-like nails, reached up to steady the cowl and keep it in place,

"I looked but could not enter. Always looking, because of what he said. Then he worked his magic and now I am here. I've reached it! What you thought would be safe for you and your guilty concious!" her voice rose as it said this before trailing off into a thin dry rattle, what Chel presumed to be a growl. The cowl then moved rapidly from side-to-side, as though it was clearing its head, "Regardless, before I can have my reward, I have to... have to..." its claw-like hands clutched at its cowled head, "No... no... My Master... he wants..." more thin growls, "He wants to speak with you. _Come_."

"What?" Chel's flawless brow furrowed slightly and his head tilted to one side.

"You heard me. Go to... Ah!... No... _Help me Master_!" the thing shrieked. Abruptly it stopped. Its head fell onto its chest, though the dragon could hear its voice whispering to itself and... His immortal senses were detecting something... another presense but beyond that he couldn't tell anything else.

"You!" the dry voice snapped, its hand jerking upwards, "Will you come willingly or not?"

Chel growled,

"You and your Master have threatened those under my protection," Vale... Vale could have been killed... My Vale-uke... thought Chel. Aloud he spoke, "I will not parley with those of your ilk."

"So be it."

Its next move took Chel by surprise and he was engulfed by a golden beam of light that howled and scorched the earth black.

* * *

"Seme!" the high priestess screamed. Her hands scrabbled at the ropes and at the restraining hands of the Armsmen, "No! _No, no, no_!" had the cowled figure been standing in front of her she wouldn't have been able to recall a single spell. No. She'd kill it with her bare hands! 

Tears began to fall from her eyes.

Just across from her, Kerova stared in horror at the burning tract of land where the ashes of his former guardian surely lay.

* * *

The cowled figure came closer to the burnt figure. The Master had stated his wishes clearly enough. Chelevva was to be brought back alive. The cowl hood bent closer and its clawed hand rested on Chel's back. 

The decoy crumbled away into ash and the immortal's magic tore through its body, flinging it away. Chel followed that up with golden globes of magic that exploded violently. His opponent dodged nimbly, though the edge of the cloak grew steadily more ragged as the globes drew closer and closer.

* * *

_He watched his servant, and felt the exciment and hatred in its soul. But it was time to end this. Carefully he sent his message._

* * *

_Use the spells I gave you and he will fall. Then bring him here._

"Understood Master," the skeletal hands moved in arcane patterns, casting the first of two spells.

* * *

Chel screamed as pain suddenly flared within every part of his body. The senses he'd inhertited from his mother told him that this was a spell that only worked on elves... and those who were in elven form. A growl worked its way from between his gritted teeth. 

His body began to change and expand into a more familar shape.

* * *

Fear stabbed briefly through the heart of the cowled figure as the colossal form of Chelevva Pendragon launched into the air, the scales reflecting the sunlight and making him into a figure of blazing light. 

Then it felt the presense of its Master and was comforted, remembering the other spell he'd given it, his faithful servant.

Chelevva turned in the air, a graceful manouver that should have been impossible for any creature of that size, and dove towards the cowled figure. He was taking in a deep breath, blue light shining at the back of his throat as he prepared one of his breath weapons, the blue beam of disintegration.

Dark magic built up within the cowled figure and it winced at the pain that the spell caused it. It knew, however, that when the magic did its job, theagony it would cause the godchild would be much, much worse.

Taking careful it sent the magic spirilling out towards him.

* * *

Chel screamed and a split-second later Vale let out on of her own. Her delicate hands were clutching her head, blood running from her ears and nose. She could sense Chel's pain through the bond they shared, when they were this close, but it had always been merely knowledge that he'd been hit. Never had she felt his pain, not like this.

* * *

The dragon was on the ground, his claws digging up huge chunks of earth and his back arching in pain. Blood came from him too, but unlike Vale it came from everywhere, even coursing down his face like bloody tears seeping from between his eyelids. 

The cowled figure watched as the proud godchild bit down on his own tongue in another spasm of pain, adding to the already bloody landscape. His back legs still feebly kicked but soon he was still.

Another spell changed him back in the form of a winged elf and with that the cowled figure left the forest, Chel slung over one boney shoulder.


	15. Chapter XV

Back in Mercuria Tiamet reclined on another pile of coins, his sister's book floating in the air in front of him. His own magical senses crawled over the book, looking for any wards. When he found none he lowered the book to the ground and stared at it.

Almost tentatively he reached out with one claw and flipped it open.

The runes were written in blood and Tiamet made a face. However, his disgust was dwarfed by his surprise. The runes on this page were neatly placed down, in crisp, clear lines. The content was also amazingly lucid.

His sister must have still been sane when she wrote it.

Surprise and fear forgotten, the dragon lord began to read.

* * *

Vale did not know where she was when her eyes opened. All that met her eyes was whiteness and for a second she thought it had snowed again. But it was warm and soft all around her. 

The high priestess sat up, her hair settling about her, brushing her shoulders as it fell down her back. Someone had taken her black and platinum robes, leaving her in her blue under-robe. Her feet were bare.

The white blanket she pushed off herself as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. Getting to her feet, she looked around the plain room, wondering what she was doing here. The last thing she could remember was... was...

The door creaked slightly as it opened and the young female spun around, her hands curled into fists. She relaxed, but only a little, as her father entered. His circlet was askew and his eyes slightly red. Behind those sore eyes was a guilty expression.

"Vale? You shouldn't be up... You took a nasty fall there."

"...fall?"

"Yes," her father took her gently by the arm and guided her to a sitting position on the bed, taking a seat next to her. His hands tugged absently at his circlet, "You fainted, remember? Chel..." he trailed off and an unidentifiable emotion crossed his face, "apparently you took a bit of his pain. Let's hope that we'll find... Vale?"

A look of horror had replaced that of bewilderment on the elven princess' face and she shot up. This caused a wave of dizziness to hit her and she trembled briefly before setting off again. She was well aware of the stares of the others and off the panicked cries of her father.

Her robe, a thin, sleeveless one, floated behind her and her bare feet made slapping noises on the floor. She didn't care about her appearance, she had a much more important task to complete.

The king was trying to drag her back to her room but he found that at this moment she was unstoppable.

* * *

Tiamet turned another page, his tongues flicking in and out of his many mouths anxiously. Although the Tome of Tiamat _started_ lucidly it quickly dissolved into mad ravings. The runes meandered across the page, on this one there were twenty-two lines that started on the left but on the right it had degraded into ninety-nine tiny tracks of runes. Several pages were dedicated just to one massive rune on each page. Many times sentences degraded into odd ramblings. 

_...so the spells will surround me and protect me from death... even that any of the other fools could deal out! _(a paragraph of rambling followed, in which his sister was certain that invisible tiny creatures were stealing her hoard)

_This opened my eyes... I see so clearly and I now know my rightful place. It is as queen of the dragon race, but why stop there? Perhaps in time I could seize power from Ao himself... _

Tiamet snorted. It would be impossible to overthrow Ao. He was to the gods what the deities were to the mortals that worshipped them. He scratched behind one ear with a fore-paw and made as to close the book.

However, something caught his eye.

It was a small footnote, only a couple of sentences, but written in black ink.

_There is something I still fear though, the one thing left because not even my sickeningly righteous twin is a threat to me any more. There is something beyond what even we deities see. It lies in wait, from the darkness it was banished to and its chilling touch is death to the gods while not even touching mortals._

"What?" Tiamet's eyes widened and his crest rose as though he were preparing for battle. Could this be it? Could this be what attacked Chelevva?

He concentrated on the Forest but his attention was snatched away by a clear and desperate prayer. The Dragon Lord was about to assign it to another avatar but then he heard the words and the familiar voice of Vale,

_Lord Tiamet, please hear my prayer. I have terrible news about your son, Chel..._

With growing horror the deity listened.

* * *

"I admire your dedication to your faith... but Vale you're going to catch something walking around dressed like that," Kerova shuffled his feet awkwardly, his circlet held between his hands. His daughter was kneeling in front of the statue of Tiamet, her hands clasped in her lap. He reached out and touched her shoulder, "You should go back to the infirmary. Chel would agree with me." 

"I know," her head lifted, and she turned to face her father. Her eyes, so similar to his own, were brimming with tears, "but I also know that if I didn't do this... what I have to do then I just..." she smiled, "I just wouldn't be me. And... he wouldn't change that."

Kerova's reply was cut off by an immense roar and he and the rest of the elves present turned speechlessly towards the statue... which had turned into a living, breathing replica which was snarling angrily,

"_Who dared to touch him_?" all five heads were shouting in perfect synch, "_If I find the bastards_," the swearing seemed to echo twice as loudly in the Temple but, as Kerova thought, it did belong to Tiamet so he had every right to curse in it, "_I swear that they'll suffer! _A thousand years in the Nine Hells seems like a good place to start..." the deity trailed off, "Oh, and I will find them... yes I will," he snorted, producing a little smoke, seeming to calm a little. The Dragon Lord turned his body and one head towards Vale,

"Vale-chan," he reached out one paw. The high priestess bowed then took it and suddenly they were gone.


	16. Chapter XVI

Vale's bare feet touched the slopes of Mercuria. She looked around with an awed expression on her face, she'd only seen Tiamet's realm described in holy books and from the stories she managed to coax out of Chel. It was just as beautiful as her homeland, but with a more surreal edge to it. The sky was full of stars yet it was as clear as day, golden light suffusing everything in a warm glow. The mountain of Celestia extended as far as she could see in either direction.

A grumbling sound rose from her deity and she stared blankly at him until she realised that he was clearing his throats, gesturing for her to speak. The elven princess had only given him a brief version of Chel's capture in her prayer.

She settled down on the grass, tucking her legs underneath herself to warm her chilly feet, taking a deep breath to steady herself, for she was suddenly close to tears, she began to talk.

* * *

Chel immediately regretted waking up as the pain hit him full force. His head was the worst, it felt as if the inside of his skull had been coated with spikes and was squeezing down onto his brain. Then again, the rest of his body was making a spirited attempt to best that...

He swore that each individual scale was hurting.

The dragon's eyes eased open, predictably the light pained them, and he lifted his head off the floor. Ignoring the protests from his spine he looked around.

There was not much here... the whole place was anonymous. Bare stone walls, completely devoid of marks. No windows. Even the air was dull. His tongue slithered in and out a few times before he confirmed that there was nothing...

He got unsteadily to his feet, using the wall as support, several scratches forming where his scales scraped against the rock. The godchild remained leaning against it as he stared at the sight before him.

It was an open archway...

It was certainly large enough to accommodate him and he didn't sense anything wrong with it.

He took one step towards it, then another, his tail swishing uneasily behind him. The dragon's eyes took in every detail, the wondrous vision not seeing any trace of traps or wards.

Chel passed through the arch...

...and his world once again was filled with pain.

* * *

"...he fell and there was blood every where... I could see it... It was coming from his e-eyes a-and his ears and... and..." the elven princess swallowed, a lump in her throat. She took a deep breath to calm herself but some how that just made it worst.

Vale bowed her head, muffling a sob, hiding a shuddering breath. She could not, however, disguise the shaking of her shoulders.

Something warm and leathery wrapped itself around her. She raised her head to discover that she was wrapped in a large, bat-like wing, a dragon's embrace. Grateful for the comfort she let the tears flow freely down her face.

* * *

Chel finally dragged the last of his body back into the room. His heart hammered itself manically against his ribs and his eyes were wide.

An anti-magic zone... he growled as he lay back on the floor to recover. Were he fully rested and recovered he could possibly cross an anti-magic zone, if it wasn't too large and he didn't mind the excruciating pain that he'd suffer.

With the abilities inherited from his mother came a price. Magic was his weapon but it was also like air to him – he _needed_ it... and he did not like the fact that someone knew his weakness.

It wasn't common knowledge... He'd barely been affected by his weakness by the time he became an adult, when he grew too large for most anti-magic fields an opponent could cast.

"You found the barrier."

The dragon raised his head, his crest rising as he confirmed that it was the cowled figure that had spoken. The first growls had begun to slip past his bared teeth when it raised a skeletal hand,

"Enough. Come. You are wanted by the Master."

With that the figure turned and passed through another arch, this one a lot smaller. Chel took a longing glance at the impassable arch before he concentrated. Where a dragon had lain stood a winged elf.

* * *

Chel's nerves and his immortal senses were tense, his hair writhed through the air of its own accord. As he walked through the long corridor he couldn't help but feel that something was wrong.

He shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself.

The cowled figure hovered at the end of the corridor, leaning against the edge of the wall, at the angle where it opened up into another room. It hitched up the collar of its cloak as Chel passed, concealing its face completely.

This room, like the others was plain, blank stone walls, featureless ceiling and floor. However, unlike the last place it did have one feature. In the centre was...

To ordinary eyes there would have been nothing but to the dragon... The entire space was filled with a presence that was huge yet at the same time intangible.

Wrong... It is not right... The thoughts surfaced to the forefront of his mind as if from an innate font of knowledge, never before used. Then all was forgotten as it spoke:

_Welcome... Chelevva Pendragon. _

Chel was only partly aware that he'd started growling and that his fangs and claws were fully extended.

"What... are... you?" the voice caused pain to blossom deep within the dragon's skull and his snarling reached a new crescendo.

_You are not here to ask questions. For now refer to me as Cabl until I see fit to reveal my true name. _

"I do not take orders from the likes of you!" pain completely forgotten, Chel's voice was freed of hesitation as his eyes narrowed into slits.

An amused noise came from the not-presence,

_If you knew who I am then you would curb that sharp tongue of yours._

"The question is how do you know _me_?"

"Do not disrespect my Master!" the thin, dry voice was effused with the rage of a true fanatic.

_Peace my servant. He does not comprehend like you do,_ the amused tone was stronger than ever, _I know everything about you. Your father calls you 'hatchling',_ Chel could feel the sneer in his voice, _You tried suicide for the first time at the age of five. You swore an oath of chastity yet now you keep an elven lover... Vale is her name._

Chel had gone white with shock, his hands trembling.

The presence noticed and laughter filled the room,

_Your weakness for the anti-magic zone I came across with the assistance of my servant here. Remove your hood, my faithful one._

The cowled figure had moved beside the immortal and now its skeletal hands reached tentatively up to the hood to drag it down.

It was female. Her face was drawn in and as gaunt as her hands. Her skin, while mostly grey still had a few patches of shimmering gold and the hair, barely brushing her shoulders was white beneath the dirt. The eyes were blank, but the female remained completely focussed on Chel's face, so she could see...

_Your senses. Use them._

Glaring up at the presence, the immortal did so...

He screamed, taking several steps back, his hands clasped over his mouth... The skeletal figure grinned.

"But..." Chel lowered his hands, "I know you... Why? Why Sesha?"

* * *

**Jessi:** (waves hands in scary manner) Mwhahaha! Cliffhanger! 


	17. Chapter XVII

**Jessi:** Sorry for the delay... First there was the flu (shudders) and then I spent the rest of the time catching up on all the school work I missed... There's also the matter of the Kelsey mod on Baldur's Gate 2...

* * *

Chel stepped back again, his hair in halo about his head and uneasy whimpers escaping his throat,

"But... But... You are _dead_! Not even Father could bring you back!"

Sesha's grin widened, revealing two slightly elongated canine teeth,

"Tiamet is a fool. His power is limited, so insignificant compared to my Master's. The gods themselves bow to him."

"_Blasphemy_!" the immortal's mood swung back to anger and he embraced it, "How could you of all people worship this... this _creature_! Why would you turn you back on our Father?"

Sesha could move just as fast as Chel. In seconds one set of claws had raked across the male's face and another went across his ribs,

"Do not ever say that again! He is not my Father!"

Chel looked up from where he'd fallen onto the stone floor. His eyes were full of sorrow,

"Little sister... How far have you fallen?"

Sesha Pendragon howled and was about to strike again when Cabl spoke,

_Enough my servant. You will have your chance for revenge soon, I promise you._

She growled and looked back at Chel, her teeth bared. But she still backed off, her claws retracting back into her skeletal fingers.

"What... have you done... to my sister?" the male immortal sat up, one hand clutching at his ribs where Sesha had struck.

_I have done nothing to her. Her feelings are her own and she serves me of her own free will also,_ Cabl's amusement could be heard clearly, _Have you never thought about how you're siblings would feel about you?_

"Feel... about me?" Chel drew his hand away from his ribs as he felt the wound seal.

_Yes. The-_

"_I hate you_. You... you..." Sesha snarled, lost for words, before grabbing her cloak with one hand and tearing it open. A foul smell arose from the cloth and with a jolt Chel realised that the cloak was in fact a burial shroud. That detail was forgotten as he saw the marks on Sesha's body.

Across her hips were several ropey scars, two rising up to mar her stomach and three circling her leg. A multitude of small puckered marks – puncture wounds – covered her grey flesh. Between her breasts was another line of scar tissue, this one with the addition of clumsy stitches that had once held it together and had not been removed.

Chel knew these wounds. He had seen them inflicted on his sibling. He had one of his own, a long ropey scar coming down between his wings and ending on his left hip. These were wounds made by Tiamat.

"You did this. _It's your _fault! And you will be punished... Master will make sure of it..."

_Yes, my servant, and you will be rewarded... compensated for all the pain you have suffered through. But we must prepare him first. _

Sesha nodded, absently throwing the tattered remains of her shroud over one shoulder to cover her nakedness,

"I hear Master," she said, sending chills down Chel's spine, "I hear and I obey."

* * *

Tiamet padded down into his lair. At his side walked Vale, her eyes still slightly red from crying. The deity pushed open a massive door with one shoulder, waving his cleric into the dark room with a reassuring smile.

Vale stood still as her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the new chamber. Her keen elven sight saw that the room wasn't completely black. There was, in fact, a soft glow coming from the centre of the floor. She padded forward.

The source of the light was a large pool set into the rock. Silver and platinum light rose from it, just barely illuminating the room.

The elven princess moved closer, her feet just inches away from the glowing liquid. Down amidst the deep royal blue was a tangled mass of black and red...

She leant closer...

It hit her instantly. The smell that all clerics grew to recognise as time passed. The sickly sweet smell of blood.

Confused she turned to her deity who hovered close to her shoulder,

"It's Chelevva's blood."

"What?"

"It'll be tracking him, enhancing my strength," the many-headed deity gestured around the room, "At this moment all the concentration I can spare is here... in this room. Chelevva _will _be found."

"But Lord Tiamet..." Vale glanced down at her hands, "...Why am I here? What can I do against... that creature?"

A clawed paw laid itself on the elf's shoulder,

"My dear Vale-chan. My son loves you. You are connected with him. It may be that your presence here will help me find him... And bring him back..." his chest rose and his ears flattened themselves against his skull, "Should his captors prove as strong as I fear."

* * *

**Jessi: **This chapter is a little shorter than the ones I've been writing recently... But the next chapter shall make up for it... (grabs Baldur's Gate 2 CD) Now I have... work to do... yes... work... 


	18. Chapter XVIII

Umm... sorry about the late update but it's coming up to exam season now... Sigh. Not to mention that it's snowing again! Sqee!

Also there is lot of new Chroincles artwork on my deviant art account (the link is in my profile as the homepage).

* * *

"I will not do this."

Chel stood, arms folded over his chest, completely stock-still. His eyes were narrow slits of colour against his pale skin.

Cabl's presence had followed the two Pendragons into a new room. This one was shaped like an arena, a deep bowl in the earth, the sides completely vertical. It was also about a mile in diameter and, not for the first time, the male dragon wondered where on Troil he was.

Sesha was a little way away, crouched down, unconsciously mimicking a dragon's four-legged stance. Another thin growl had slipped past her bared teeth.

_Remember, you have no choice in the matter._

"Do not seek to command _me_!"

_Ah… you have the arrogance of a dragon _and _a deity. It will not work here, not like among your overgrown lizard kin._

Chel started to growl, his draconic pride stung.

_That being the case,_ continued Cabl, _you _will _do as I say and you _will _fight my servant. _

"I will not fight you Sesha," the male immortal turned towards his sister, his eyes soft and sorrowful, "Believe me, sister, I do not want to harm you."

"I do not want your pity! Fight me!" Sesha rose partly out of her crouching stance, her arms swinging loosely forward.

"No."

That simple statement brought a scream of rage from the other dragon and she leapt at her brother, her hands curled up into fists even though the long nails bit into her palms.

Chel fell back, not resisting. His jaw snapped, his teeth suddenly loose all along one side. Then his nose shattered, warm blood running down over his lips staining them crimson.

Still he lay completely still.

No claws came from his fingers, no fangs came past his blood-stained lips. His arms didn't even rise from the floor to defend himself.

"Bastard!" hissed Sesha, "Fight me damn it!" her dead, white eyes narrowed.

"I have given you my answer. I won't do it," Chel replied evenly, his teeth clicking as they returned to their proper places.

"_Bastard_!" Sesha repeated, slamming her fists with bone-breaking force into Chel's ribs. Her gaunt, ghoulish face withdrew back into her hood.

_If you will not fight… Maybe this Vale-uke would be a _momentary _diversion. Mortals do not last long… so delicate and… fragile._

"You would dare use torture!"

_Why not? You did…_ if Cabl had a mouth it would have been grinning, _for_ _all those years. Slipping off to your private chamber to watch all those little devices tear into your own flesh. _

It was instinct that guided the dragon prince's actions. His arm flung outward, raw magic crackling at the tips.

The shriek of pain that arose from Cabl was music to his ears. But before he could strike again Sesha brought both curled fists down onto…

Chel's legs curled up against his chest, kicking his sister away. She fell hissing, slashing out with her claws. The male immortal leapt himself backward, his robes billowing around him. Sesha missed but the seven magical globes that spun from his fingers didn't.

Howling, Sesha flung herself forward. The male immortal ducked underneath her arms, his own claws tearing bloody slashes into his sister's sides. She retaliated instantly, bringing her heel down onto the back of his neck, forcing him to the ground.

She easily picked him up by the front of his robes, apparently as strong as he was. Fangs grew down past her bottom lip and the sharp tip grazed his pale throat, red lines of blood forming against his skin.

Magic surged from Chel's body. His sister shrieked and dropped him, the stink of cooked meat rising from her skeletal body.

She glance up, seeing that her brother's winged elf form had gone. Instead a colossal dragon struck, his teeth closing on thin air as Sesha blinked herself across the arena.

Her rage was rising like bile in her throat, her enemy standing before her in his true form. She longed to tear him apart where he stood but... her Master needed him for the plan.

That didn't mean that she could hurt him now though.

A grin spread across her face as her body began to change.

* * *

Sesha was a heart-rending sight to the male immortal. Her scales and flesh had shrunk back onto her bones, her chest heaving with every shuddering breath. Her wound were also much worse. Some wept black blood onto her torn and dull scales. Others were just gaping holes in her flesh. One of her wings was missing its membrane, its twin ragged and torn.

She struck out, her teeth snapping closed a hair's-breath away from Chel. He scrabbled backwards, his eyes still taking in every detail.

His trained mind saw his sister's tactics, or rather, lack of them.

She's just biting... almost as if...

Chel leapt, his jump carrying him further with one sweep of his powerful wings. Sesha wheeled to strike again but Chel was ready for her. One wing folded onto itself and lashed out at her.

A small scream of surprise escaped the female immortal and Chel continued his assault, his teeth tearing into her flesh and his claws passing through her scales like a hot knife through butter. He opened his jaw again, ignoring his sister's struggles. His chest inflated as he sucked in a lungful of air and blue light began to gather at the back of his throat.

* * *

_Cabl felt the energy shifting within Chelevva, that of a breath weapon, the blue beam of disintegration. It was not the time. He still needed his servant. _

* * *

A rope of magical energy wrapped itself around Chel's jaws, pulling his head up and closing his glowing maw. A muffled cry of panic escaped the dragon.

Chel couldn't stop his attack. The beam of energy forced its way out instead.

Part of Chel's face simply vanished and the blue light roared uselessly up towards the ceiling. A dark spray of blood obscured the dragon's vision and he screamed at the pain.

His sister lunged and was still clawing at his flesh when darkness mercifully took the godchild. Cabl laughed all the while.


	19. Chapter XIX

_Vale stood outside the Heir's Place. It had been her home for many years but now she barely recognized it. The graceful willows that grew around it wept ash-grey strands instead of fresh green leaves. Around her feet brittle stalks of dead grass lay broken._

_Even the actual building, built partly within a massive tree trunk with various towers shooting off from it, was grey and crumbling._

_A flash of black and white moving across the front of the building caught her eye and she ran towards it, bone-white grass clinging to her light robe and braking beneath her bare feet._

_As she drew closer she recognized the long white hair and matching wings, though Chel's face was bowed and he did not look at her. _

"_Chel! Chel!" her voice seemed faded in this dead place as though she was hearing herself from far away. _

_Chel did not seem to hear her and he continued onwards. He wore only a long, black robe and whenever he took a step the material flapped away loosely showing a flash of pale, slender leg. His arms came forward across his chest, his hands concealed in his sleeves. Some of his hair had fallen forward and hung like a curtain around his face._

_He vanished around the corner and Vale scrambled to keep up, kicking up clouds of loose grey earth. She gained steadily on him as he past through the gardens then he stopped. _

_The young cleric looked past him. Back home there was a small pool of crystal water at that place. Here, there was a lake, a sea of deep black water, reaching up past the horizon and beyond._

_Chel stepped forward, his garments changing from a black robe to a simple one of white. _

_Abruptly Vale knew what it was: the clothing of a sacrifice. _

"_No!" she shrieked and dove forward just as he came forward to enter the dark water. Her hand seized the trailing ends of his tresses, pulling him down onto the ground. The young priestess hit the grey earth, still clutching several strands of white hair. _

_Slowly she rose, turning towards Chel, torn between worrying and reprimanding the immortal. All those thoughts fled her mind as soon as she set eyes on him._

_The dragon was weeping, but it was not tears that were falling. Instead blood ran in twin crimson tracks from the gaping holes where his eyes once were._

_Suddenly there came a roar from behind the cleric and she spun around to see the dark water rearing up as if controlled by some malevolent hand._

_She screamed once again as the waters rushed down, taking all she knew with it._

* * *

The high priestess returned to the waking world with a cry, her heart beating all the faster when she looked around her unfamiliar surroundings.

Then it all came back to her.

She was curled up on a makeshift bed, the mattress actually Tiamet's coiled tail and her blanket a silver-fringed pelt from the deity's hoard. She wrapped the fur around herself, shivering in the chill of the cavern.

"Vale-chan?" the head of a gold dragon came into view, its glowing amber eyes full of concern.

"I had a dream that's all," Vale shivered again before remembering her manners, "Nothing to concern yourself with, my Lord," she even managed to sketch a small bow.

"Vale my dear. I believe that after saving my life the very least you can do is call me Tiamet," a burst of surprising light laughter came from him before stopping abruptly. He shifted his body so all five of his heads were in view.

The young cleric realised that the whispered spell casting from the other heads had ceased,

"You've found him?" she stood, her blanket falling away from her shoulders.

"No, but I have found where he is not!" at Vale's bemused expression he continued, "What do you know of Chel's weakness of anti-magic zones?"

"His… what?"

"I am not surprised that he did not tell you. It barely affects him now anyway," one of his heads nodded to itself, "There are not many who could prepare an anti-magic field that could hold him.

"But in my scrying I have come across something new. Two large anti-magic fields, both certainly capable of holding Chelevva."

He picked up Vale, transferring her to his back,

"We will be paying these a visit, but first, we must get you dressed. Even a mammal as impressive as yourself will catch something like that."

The elven princess looked down to see that she still wore her blue under-robe and she blushed slightly, covering it behind her hands. Her deity must have seen anyway as he chuckled slightly.

* * *

Tiamet had partly vanished into a chest of holding carved out of dark tropical wood. Vale was sat on another chest glancing around at her surroundings. The small group of coffers that the deity was investigating were lodged in the side of a small hill of gold and silver coins. More glittering treasures were heaped into piles. Some that looked old or valuable or were especially beautiful were enclosed in softly glowing spheres that hovered in the air, high above the stone floor.

She wondered how long it would take to travel from one end of this colossal hall to the other.

"Aha!" the deity backed out from the chest, dislodging a few coins that bounced off down towards the floor. In between his paws he clutched a soft package of white leather bound in silver cords. He passed it to Vale then turned around, staring fixedly in the opposite direction.

The reason for that became apparent when the elven cleric untied the cord. Inside was a set of elegant priest robes in the colours of the dragon deity. Unlike the dreaded formal robes, these were made for battle. Long slits allowed for extra mobility. In the cloth itself runes of protection and blessing were sewn. It also came with bracers that extended up to protect her hands, leaving the fingers free for spell casting.

"Now you look like a high priestess," the deity's eyes glowed in approval, "Very much like your ancestor the Battle Queen, might I add."

Vale blushed. Being compared to her ancestor, the first monarch and a powerful warrior-cleric, was high praise.

The dragon deity lifted his cleric easily onto his back and together they left the plane of Mercuria.

* * *

_Cabl thought as he so often did in his exile. His mind lingered on the fight between his servant and Chelevva earlier that day._

_His servant's screams, along with all other sound, always seemed distant to him, as though he were hearing them from underwater. Similarly had been the tearing of flesh as both dragon tore past the other's scales and into the tender flesh beneath._

_He had not expected this from Chelevva. Instead of fighting like this, he'd though that the dragon would have continued the annoying altruistic attitude he'd been displaying on Troil. But he was pleased by this, this utterly ruthlessness and viciousness. Had things been different Chelevva would have made a worthy servant. _

_But no… this was the way things were and Chelevva would follow the destiny he'd laid out for him._

_He reached out to touch his servant's mind. Sesha roused instantly from her trance._

_Wake Chelevva, my servant. It is time_


	20. Chapter XX

**Jessi:** Two weeks off for Easter! Woo! I never knew there were perks to being Catholic! Alas, most of this holiday will be spent revising... Sigh... It's not fair. :(

* * *

Anguar the lich glanced up at his ceiling, narrowing his glowing red eyes accusingly at the stone. With an annoyed grunt he swept the small heap of dust of his spell book, returning to his studies... only to be interrupted as more dust fell onto the pages, this time accompanied by a small thud. 

The undead wizard got up and headed to the wall where the sound had come from. He frowned (causing small flakes of skin to fall from his forehead) as he spotted a fine web of cracks marring the otherwise smooth surface. There was another, louder thud and the stones heaved inwards.

A blunt muzzle burst through the wall. It moved from side-to-side, widening the gap then withdrew. A brief moment passed before an entire dragon head entered the room, demolishing more of the wall as it went.

Anguar's watched dumbfounded as the creature shook the dust and rubble from its shimmering scales. Then it turned and saw him.

Its eyes were a deep leaf-green and they seemed to expand to fill his entire world, blocking all else out in their warm glow.

* * *

Tiamet's gold head withdrew from the hole he'd made and turned to the waiting elf. 

"He knows nothing of Chelevva. My son is not here."

"We're at the wrong place?"

"Yes... Vale is there something wrong?" the young cleric had a hand clamped firmly over her mouth and her shoulders were shaking, but she shook her head quickly, waving away the question with her free hand.

As Tiamet let go of the tower and took off, a gaunt figure appeared at the hole,

"_What about my wall?_"

The elf lost control then, her arms wrapped around her aching ribs as she burst into hails of hearty laughter. Tiamet politely pretended not to hear her and began casting the spells that would take them to the second location... where, hopefully, Chelevva was waiting for them.

* * *

Chel winced as he felt along his jaw. The newly-regenerated muscle was sore and the fresh scales felt flimsy. Several of his teeth had yet to appear but he could feel them growing in the soft flesh of his mouth. 

A soft footstep made his ears prick up and he turned to see the cowled figure of his sister exit the smaller tunnel. He snarled and struck, his claws missing as she leapt backwards into the narrow corridor and beyond his reach.

The male immortal growled and he paced back and forth in front of the entrance.

"The Master wishes to see you. Follow me to-" her dry voice floated up towards his ears.

"I saw you die. You are dead, Sesha," Chel ignored her command and instead settled in front of the enterance.

"I was dead... but the Master saved me. Now follow. You are prisoner here. You will obey the Master's command."

"You are as much a prisoner here as I am Sesha. You can not cross the anti-magic fields, can you?"

"I am here willingly-"

"He found out about my weakness... our weakness by testing the fields on you," he closed his eyes briefly at the remembered pain.

"It was all worth it! For our revenge any sacrifice is worth it!" she was growling now, "Do not make me use force!"

"You won through the intervention of your slave-driver," his voice was much closer and Sesha could see the winged elf enter the corridor. His eyes had turned into hard, cold jewels in his face, "Now, shall we see what lies he has to say?"

* * *

Tiamet landed, folding his wings neatly. Vale slid off his back, one hand resting on the reassuring bulk of her deity, the other clenched in the material of her robes. 

In front of them was a large hole. The edges were jagged and uneven as if the earth had been torn carelessly up. Vale looked down at her feet to see that the grass around it had died and was as white as bleached bone.

"T-this is where Chel is?"

"I am sure of it."

The cleric shivered. Tiamet must have heard the tremor in her voice as he wrapped one leathery wing around her shoulders.

All too soon, they entered the pit and were swallowed up by the darkness.

* * *

Chel and Sesha entered Cabl's chamber. Sesha bowed deeply and retired to the corner. She sat there, lolling against the wall as though her strength had been completely sapped but Chel had no doubt that she was watching everything with her blank eyes. 

_I see you have recovered from your loss. That is good. My servant and I have waited long enough for this._

"Waited for what? Speak and be quick about it!"

_Simply put. You are the one who will bring me back to your plane. You are the tool of my resurrection._

"I do not allow myself to be used as someone else's tool."

_Regardless, you will come willingly in the end. _

"I fail to see how you can force me too."

"Do not speak to the-"

_Peace, my servant. _

Hissing Sesha slumped back against the wall, her eyes still fixed on her brother and her claws out.

_Chelevva, I have watched you throughout the years. I have seen your ill-gotten years, that were paid for with your innocent siblings' blood. Yet it is I that gave you this chance to repent. _

_I saved your life Chelevva Pendragon. _


	21. Chapter XXI

It was pitch black within the tunnels. Neither Vale or Tiamet could summon light within the anti-magic zone so the young cleric had no choice but to ride on Tiamet's back, her hands clutching at his crest for comfort. Luckily, Tiamet possessed the ability to see in total darkness, the blindsense that all dragons possessed.

The Dragon Lord paused when they came to a fork. The wide corridor that he'd been following split into two separate, smaller tunnels, both completely identical.

He snorted in annoyance, causing the elf on his back to gasp slightly at the unexpected noise. Usually he could just cast a divination spell for Chelevva or sense his Divine Agent with his own godly powers. This time, however, he was restricted to more primitive measures.

Lowering two of his heads he swept them along the floor, trying to find any sort of scent. His tongue flickered out to delicately taste the air.

"Tiamet, what-"

Tiamet hushed his cleric, calming her fears with a few words, his mind concentrating on ignoring the smell of the stone and the earth and looking...

He caught the scent of something, something which brought great joy and fear.

The scent of dried blood came from the right hand tunnel. Tiamet wouldn't been able to see it, his blindsense and darkvision only showed him images in black-and-white for colours could not exist without light.

He was elated that he'd caught the scent but if he were bleeding and hurt...

The deity pushed all those thoughts out of his mind and picked up the pace.

* * *

Cabl was again surprised by the male dragon's reaction. Bitter, sardonic laughter escaped the godchild's mouth,

"And how would you have achieved this?" he looked upwards to what he thought as the middle of Cabl's presence, "You, with no more substance than a shadow. I owe my life to one being, and one being only, and you are not he."

_You refer to your father. He found you bleeding there, but how could you have lived? Tiamat was a deity of destruction and death, did you ever stop to think how she could have missed her mark?_

The dragon, in his winged elf form, stood stock-still, his eyes narrowed and his fists clenched. Yet Cabl could see the first thoughts of doubt behind his eyes.

_It was me. I kept the spark of your life from entering the Beyond. I gave you this chance to repent for your past sins. But if you insist on refusing my gift..._

Chel's senses were just a moment too slow, but it only took that moment to damn him. The magic crashed against his slight form, pain igniting every particle of his body. The protection that his elven body offered was slight and the male immortal slid into unconsciousness.

Sesha crossed the floor towards him, her body still aching from the side-effects that using the Wyrm's Death spell caused her. She picked up her brother easily, carrying him over one shoulder.

* * *

Chel stirred, automatically trying to cradle his head, to try and somehow lessen the pain. However, his hands refused to move.

He lifting his aching head from the pillow of his arm. Through bleary eyes he saw that his hands were bound together with ropes of magical energy. Though his wings were in the way he could tell that his feet were bound in a similar fashion.

Voices were above him, though they seemed unreal and so very far away. He strained to hear but he felt so weak.

* * *

Sesha took the dagger in one hand and tore Chel's robes open with one motion, exposing the scar on his back.

_You know what to do, my servant._

"Yes Master."

A smile crossed the female dragon's gaunt face. Carefully she slid the dagger into the scar tissue. As she drew the blade down, opening up the old wound she felt the tingle of her master's powers working on the wound, preventing it from healing. Once the wound was fully open she stepped back,

"Master, he is ready," she could feel the excitement building up within her.

* * *

_Cabl reached out along the pathways again. This time he felt his presence ebb slowly down them, towards the warmth. A laugh escaped him as he began to leave the Beyond._

_Unnoticed by Cabl, the first presence, fighting the urge to sleep with ever increasing effort, watched on. Sorrow filled it as it saw all that it had worked to stop come to pass._

* * *

Tiamet halted, his body tensing, his crest rising. Vale huddled closer, suddenly very cold, and touched the warm scales of her deity, trying to stave off this mysterious fear.

* * *

Chel screamed, arching his back, as acute pain flared into being across his scar. His eyes rolled up into his head as he strained against his bindings. His head met stone with a loud crack as he trashed on the ground.

Sesha smiled at this, then turned to watch the scar, her anticipation growing. Something stirred beneath the male's skin, making its way to the open wound on his back.

Slowly, feeling the air on their skin for the first time in eons, clawed fingers rose from the bloody gash and gripped the edge of the cut. An identical set grabbed the other side then pushed.

The dragon's screaming reached new crescendos as the injury was widened, skin and muscle tearing wetly, white gleams of bone visible among the red. A great horned head arose, then broad shoulders.

Finally Cabl stepped onto solid ground.

Steam arose from his skin which was coated with Chel's hot blood. This new form he had chosen was about sixteen feet in hight and covered in a thick layer of muscle. Two long, black horns grew out from his head as well as a thick mane of coarse hair. A jagged crest ran along the line of his spine and his tail. The curves of his long dragon-like face and the graceful shapes of his claws were in a mocking imitation of Chel's.

"Master!" Sesha flung herself on the ground, kissing his taloned feet in adoration. She lifted herself into a kneeling position, her arms reaching out for him, "Master, can we now bring them back?" she gestured towards the supine form of her brother, "I just know that my brothers and sisters will serve you just as I have done."

Cabl smirked,

"Ah, yes. The reward I promised you."

"Master, I need your power to bring them back. I can't do it alone an-" she was cut off as Cabl brushed her aside as easily as a fly. She flew against the wall with a sickening thud and slid to the floor. She was still conscious, though just barely.

"But Master... why? I served you faithfully..."

"You did," the smirk widened, "but I have no use for you now," he gestured and Sesha's body jerked in pain. The female howled before falling on her side, her eyes closed and black blood oozing from her mouth.

Cabl walked on without a second glance.


	22. Chapter XXII

**Jessi:** Alas, this shall be the last update until late-June... Yes, it's time for exams again (sigh) My first exam is on Tuesday! This chapter would have been up yesterday but the site wouldn't let me upload it!

* * *

Tiamet turned suddenly, breaking into a loping run. Vale tightened her grip on the crest in front of her as a wave of fear swept over them both. The elven cleric pressed closer to the warm scales of her deity, her heart feeling as though it would burst out of her chest.

The Dragon Lord himself concentrated on running, knowing that he'd need the speed to get himself in the air. He didn't know what lay behind them, only that it scared him, deep within his ancient heart.

* * *

Sesha's senses were hazy, as though she were floating. She frowned slightly. It was so... warm... The world she knew was always cold, even below the glaring orb of the sun. It had always been like that... hadn't it? Her frown deepened as conflicting shadowy memories arose in her mind. Yet this warm relaxing sensation was somehow oddly familiar.

The pain that her master's attack had caused was completely gone and she eased her eyes open.

A pale figure sat by her, hands hovering over her skeletal form. Platinum light flowed from them and into her.

She shrieked in rage and slashed out at her brother. He took the attack and fell backwards onto the floor. Another thin expression of rage escaped her mouth. Was he just repeating his earlier performance by refusing to fight her?

But his pale skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and his chest heaved, his breath ragged. His torn robes were stained with crimson. The open scar on his back was still bleeding heavily.

He eased his body up, his limbs trembling. Taking one last look at her he began to walk away towards the arch that led away from this room.

Sesha shivered, her skin crawling and a sharp pain beginning to form behind her eyes. Even her teeth felt on edge,

"_What did you do to me_?" she hissed at him, scrambling to her feet, her claws out. He looked at her with his solemn eyes, his body shuddering again,

"Healing magic. The power of our father."

"He is _not_ my father!" hissed the female dragon, her hands reaching up to clutch at her head, "The Master said-"

"The same master that abandoned you here?" Chel's head swung from side to side, his eyes closed as if he were looking for something, "The anti-magic zones are still there," he said, opening his eyes again.

Sesha rubbed the black blood from her face with a corner of her shroud-cloak, the other hand working on massaging her temple with the heel of her palm. It did her no good, her head still felt as though her skull was squeezing down on her brain, as tight as a vice.

The male dragon set off again towards the exit, unwilling to believe his immortal senses...

He couldn't be trapped here...

He just couldn't...

* * *

Tiamet exploded up and out of the hole, his massive wings scything downwards. Vale blinked in the sudden light as the deity levelled off, circling the hole, four of his five heads focussed on dark pit. His jewel-like eyes were narrowed in concentration.

"What _was_ that?" Vale channelled a small amount of healing magic into herself to calm her stomach. Tiamet was not as graceful as Chel was in the air.

Abruptly beneath them plant-life began to die, the white area expanding outwards. Tiamet, with his superior draconic vision saw it all, leaves dropping at once from trees whose bark was turning as grey as ash. The grass withered instantly and flowers he saw as bright flashes of colour before they too were extinguished.

A shiver ran up his spine and he caught movement from the pit.

A creature, horned and dripping crimson liquid from its flesh, rose from the darkness, lifting its head to sniff at the sky. Its face, those mockingly draconic features turned to regard the deity, a smirk forming slowly and crookedly across its bloody muzzle. Then the smell reached him.

Tiamet bellowed and Vale cowered as she felt the rage in that terrible sound.

"You _dared_ to touch him? One of royal and divine blood?" the Dragon Lord's paws clenched, his ivory claws denting the scales, "Every drop of Chelevva's blood on that misbegotten hide of yours... for every drop you will shed ten times as much! _I swear it_!"

The creature spread its arms and laughed, the cruel mocking sound rolling upwards to the cleric and the deity. Tiamet's eyes flashed dangerously, his lips drawing back to reveal five wide maws, filled with sharp teeth.

His chest expanded as he sucked in a lungful of air, light gathering at the back of every throat.

_Cover your eyes Vale!_

The cleric did as she was told, closing her eyes tightly and burying her head in her arm. A moment later Tiamet released his breath weapons.

* * *

Cabl smirked as the deity attacked. White fire fell from the sky in a great wave of heat. Another head spat ice shards as large and sharp as swords. One breathed out blue-white bolts of lightning. There was a blue beam of disintegration too, one of the attacks that Chelevva had inherited. The last was platinum blaze of pure energy.

Cabl's shoulder's shook and a great burst of laughter rolled up from him as the attacks hit.

* * *

The dragon deity grinned widely as the creature vanished under the brilliant light of his attacks, a triumphant roar sounded out across the vast expanse of sky. Vale sat up once more, her eyes fixed on the roaring globe of magic before her. But she was still uneasy, her heart still beating its rapid tempo against her chest.

Tiamet abruptly froze beneath her,

"_What_?"

All of his attacks, the magical breath weapons he has rained down from the heavens... they were fading!


	23. Chapter XXIII

**Jessi:**It's been a few days... and I've already broken my resolution. I have no will power whatsoever. (sigh)

* * *

Cabl lifted his arms, his head thrown back in rapture as the energy coursed through his flesh. His grin widened and a shuddering breath escaped his mouth. Finally the last of the Dragon Lord's magic entered his body.

Above him the deity hovered, eyes wide with shock. Carefully he raised a hand and took aim.

* * *

Vale's only warning was a sharp bark of alarm, before the deity folded his wings and arrowed towards the earth. She felt the tingle of magic in her limbs. An experimental shifting of her body revealed that it was fixing her very firmly to Tiamet's back. She opened her mouth to speak but her words were drowned out by the roar of a lance of crackling energy passing over them. Wisely she decided not to complain and added her own magic to that of her deity's.

* * *

Chel stared at the empty corridor and at the bloody footprints leading away up towards the exit. Freedom beckoned... but the anti-magic zone still remained, mocking him and his efforts.

The male dragon sat down heavily, his body sore and tired and his heart longing for the sun, the sky and Vale.

Sesha remained far behind him, her hands still clutching her head, skeletal finger clamped tightly to her skull. She sat down too, her body hunched up, her knees drawn up against her chest. A whimper escaped her throat and she fell backwards, back arching off the ground.

A soft padding noise drew nearer and a pale face with worn eyes appeared above hers,

"Your master's attack still pains you?"

Concern flickered to life in those cool depths. Sesha frowned. There were... memories... Those eyes... They were green and blue and there were those of silver that radiated warmth. She reached out with different hands and spoke words of love and a cool female voice told her...

"No!" Sesha's blank eyes widened and she shrieked, "Lies! All of it! Illusions by our enemy!" her voice rose and Chel back away cautiously, arms raised slightly but head cocked to one side with curiosity, "The Bitch-Harlot! Foul whore! She who had not the courage to cross over!" she shook her head rapidly from side to side then flung it back, making it meet the stone with a sickening thud, "She is dead! Shadow! _Nothing_!" her arms thrashed in the air, the claws fully extended.

The male immortal caught her emaciated wrists and held them firmly against the floor as her body convulsed. He listened to her ravings. He had seen this before, though never as violent. Her mind was torn in two, still believing the lies fed to her by her master, yet reeling from his betrayal.

"Sesha? Sesha listen to me!" his voice rose over her ranting which quieten into an incoherent mutter, "Do you want revenge on him? On Cabl? He hurt you Sesha... little sister..." her lowered his mouth to her ear, "Tell me... how do I defeat him?"

Her eyes opened again,

"_She_ did once. But she did not follow. No, no, no... But joke... joke is on _her_ now... she is nothing but a ghost... a whisper in the Beyond," her calm, placid voice suddenly became venomous, "_Silver-eyed slut_!"

Chel's fingers worked through a few gestures and Sesha's eyes closed. More platinum healing magic flowed into her body before the male stood, swaying slightly on his feet. In his mind a plan was forming.

* * *

Tiamet knew that his magic had not worked. Instead it had given the enemy the advantage, the energy from his breath weapons converted into lances of energy that he had to dive and tumble in the air to avoid. An alternative strategy had presented itself, although... He felt the presence of Vale on his back, his dear cleric and Chelevva beloved mate. She was mortal and frigile... and in many ways too precious to risk in battle. He closed his eyes and started to chant.

* * *

Vale heard the incantation coming from her deity and she gasped,

"Tiamet! You can't! It doesn't work!" the chanted continued unabated, "What are you-"

Abruptly she felt not scales beneath her but dry brittle grass as she fell, sprawled out on the ground. She looked upwards to see her deity dive from the sky.

* * *

Tiamet tucked his wings and claws against his body, streamlining his body as he arrowed towards the still-grinning monster. His fangs shone in the sun and the wyvern spike on the end of his tail shed a few drops of poison. If magic would not work, then he would fight with tooth and claw!

He roared and his heads struck, jaws seeking to rend the blood-stained creature's flesh.

Cabl gestured and he vanished, only to reappear a short distance away.

The deity drove both forepaws into the earth, using that as a pivot and leapt out towards Cabl again, slashing out with his ivory claws.

A bloody hand rested on Tiamet's scaly flank and magic surged into the dragon deity's body. A bellow of pain echoed up to the sky.

* * *

Down, deep under the ground Chel was preparing for his own battle. His face was a tight mask of pain as he drew the dagger upwards, opening up his scar once more. Biting his lip he cast the blade aside, reaching for the bundle of rags that were the remains of his robes. His pale hands reached in, searching until he grasped a soft black cord. The male dragon threw the rest of the rags off to one side all of his concentration on the bag of holding in his trembling hand.

From its depths he withdrew the item he needed...

With the greatest of care he set the plain wooden box on the ground, his hand fumbling for the catch.


	24. Chapter XXIV

**Jessi:** Now I must very firmly say that there shall be no more fan fiction until after the exams. My final exam is on the 9th June and so another chapter shall be up a few days after (got to recuperate after all).

Just a thought: do you readers have a favourite character? Drop me a review and say who it is: I am very curious to know. Not to mention high on sugar!

* * *

Tiamet pulled away from Cabl, sparks dancing across his shining scales. The deity gave a snort and turned towards the monster, one of his heads chanting a healing spell. The others were growling and he darted forward again, claws digging up earth as he charged. 

The blood-stained figure raised an arm and the dragon deity, anticipating another lance of energy, flung himself to the side. But instead of the single bolt, an arc of blinding magic flared out from Cabl's fingertips. It caught the edge of Tiamet's wing and suddenly the limb was alight, the white substance searing the bones and the delicate membrane.

The Dragon Lord howled, frantically trying to beat it out, while his heads whispered numerous incantations to dispel it.

Cabl smirked as he looked on at the deity and his antics. He had come to understand that Tiamet was one of the stronger gods on this world, the only survivor of the Dragon God War. Pathetic!

He stalked towards him, intent on finishing him.

Pain abruptly flared to life across his back. He turned, snarling as he saw no attacking spell caster.

* * *

Vale stayed stock-still, hoping that her invisibility spell would fool the blood-stained creature. Moving would cause the grass to rustle and break, giving away her position. 

Her bolt of glory spell, one of the stronger clerical spells she possessed, had seemed to hurt him, yet all she'd been trying to do was cause a distraction. Why would her magic work, but not that of her deity?

The young cleric pressed her hands together, ready to cast again, suppressing her anxiety and fear. She glanced down out of habit and in horror saw her hands reappearing.

She looked up at the monster and out of instinct she flung seven magic missiles at him. They drew close and winked out of existence.

Cabl looked up at her, his arms spread and his body shuddering with the power he'd absorbed. A smirk crossed his face and he concentrated...

The young female jumped back as he appeared in front of her, blue eyes wide, hands reaching for one of the small steel objects on her belt. He struck first, a massive clawed hand closing about her throat, pulling her up into the air.

She struggled as those talons dug into her flesh, her own blood mingling with that of Chelevva's. Cabl's grin only widened in anticipation of her death.

"_You shall not touch her_!" a wyvern spike drove itself into the blood-stained creature's flesh and poison, one of the deadliest in the Realms, spread through his veins like a dark fire. Tiamet followed this up by tearing at him with ivory claws.

Cabl blinked away, leaving Vale hacking and coughing on the ground.

The deity, gritting his teeth against the pain in his blackened and seared wing, leapt after him.

* * *

Chel flipped the lid of the box. A book was nestled on top of a many-folded parchment sheet. The dragon's eyes flicked to what was lying on top of the book, distracted by the gleam of metal. 

It was a band of white gold, a bracelet. The surface was covered with intricate designs but these seemed to shift before the male immortal's eyes. Chel picked it up, his fingers clutching the cold metal, keeping himself focused.

Before he could slid it onto his wrist the band shrunk, revealing itself to be a ring, once owned by a creature much larger. He placed it on his right hand and still unsure of how to do this, began to concentrate.

The cavern about him faded and all that he could see was blackness. A vice-like pain gripped his head and his body shuddered in the suddenly frigid air. Instead of pushing against these sensations he welcomed them, opening up his mind as he felt...

* * *

_... the presence was abruptly awake, more aware than it had been in millennia. It was confused, puzzled but then clarity dawned. The pathway was open! Gathering the shards of power to itself, more than it had ever been able to reclaim here before, it flowed down the pathway and..._

* * *

... burst onto the Prime Material plane, a cry of joy escaping at the mere sensation of sound and touch, sight and smell, restored to full. From the ground, a pair of blue-green eyes, filed with with conflicting emotion stared upwards. Easily it... no, she sent the knowledge that the young one needed, the gestures, the incantations. 

Then she was away, wings beating their fastest. She reached the anti-magic zones, but these were no obstacle to her and she tore them down with ease, what was second nature to her, even after all these years.

She could feel the other, just as she could in the Beyond and his presence here enraged her, speeding her flight and making her lips peel back from her teeth. She started to chant, her voice light and pleasant yet still filled with power as she began casting.

* * *

Sesha stared at the creature as it passed by, eyes wide. She glanced at her brother as he began a spell of his own, his hands moving precisely and elegantly, all trace of trembling gone. There seemed to be something around him: some brief snatches of colour in the air above him that she somehow knew was no part of this spell. 

The female dragon shook her head to clear it but it still remained, moving softly about Chelevva's body. She wondered briefly what it was but... she had more important matters to attend to.

She began her march to the surface, her body changing as she went.


	25. Chapter XXV

**Jessi:** I'm back! At last! Sorry, sorry, sorry to all those out there who have been waiting for this chapter. My computer died and the delivery of my shiny new computer was delayed by three weeks. So please, don't come after me with rusty knives, go after the suppliers instead!

I'm very glad that I can type again. When I can't I tend to buy more manga, anime and video games (than usual) to entertain myself. It's bad for my wallet and my sanity though it did cheer me up (except when I brought _Fruits Basket_ and _Fushigi Yugi_ – such sad happenings! Wah!)

So let's get back to the story then, written on my new computer Momo-chan.

* * *

Kerova tugged on the sash of his quilted robe, checking absently that it was still tight around his slim form. That done he pulled his fur cloak around him again, continuing to meander through the snowy palace gardens. These were not the gardens of his own home but those that surrounded the Heir's Palace, the home of his daughter… and Chel.

He stopped and hugged himself. They said that if it snowed twice in one year it was an omen of bad luck to come. Personally he couldn't see how his realm's luck could get any worse.

Chel, the Imperial Guardian, snatched away by a cloaked figure and, shortly after, his daughter vanishing too.

He glanced down at the white powder that blanketed the ground.

Vale loved the snow. He had many fond memories of watching her scamper across it, forcing her stoic guardian to play who'd relent with the tiniest of half-smiles on his face.

It was on a day like this, when the snow and ice lay thick on the ground that his parents had been found, the king and queen dead from exposure, frozen together hand-in-hand.

It was on a night like this, when the wind howled, heavy with snow that his queen, Isiarll, died bringing their daughter into the world.

Yes, Kerova hated the snow.

It took all those he loved and this time it had not even done him the courtesy of leaving him bodies to burn.

The elven king slumped slowly to his knees, his hands coming up to hide his face and the tears that fell freely from his eyes.

* * *

Cabl blinked away, dodging Tiamet's swipe. Smirking he brought both fists down onto the deity's half-healed wing, feeling the bones crunch underneath them. The many-headed one bellowed and scrambled a short distance away, injured wing held high above the ground.

The small mammal threw a lightning bolt at him. It brushed past his blood-stained arm as he swayed away from it. His mane crackled, the few hairs that were not weighed down with blood standing on end, up away from his skin.

He growled at her, aiming a lance of magical energy at her but was forced to change targets as the god charged towards him. Tiamet howled as the magic crackled across his flesh but continued to charge, much to Cabl's surprise. Instead of slashing out at him with his deadly claws as he'd done before, the Dragon Lord drove the monster to the ground, putting his full weight forward to crush his opponent.

Cabl looked up into Tiamet's central head which was just a hair's-breath from his own. The god's lips were pulled back from his scimitar-like teeth and animalistic snarls escaped him. Reason was steadily leaving the deity, all rational thought vanishing behind a crimson fog of rage.

Draconic deities – of all those who sat on their heavenly thrones – were the most hypocritical. Strip away the flowery words and the veneer of superiority and all that was left was a slavering beast. He smirked.

* * *

Vale gasped as a brilliant white light flared from the creature's hands and her deity was thrown back. He sailed through the air and landed with a bone-jarring crunch, his injured wing trapped between his body and the ground.

His opponent advanced quickly, hands raised to strike.

Vale began chanting, her own hands moving with desperate speed. Without even looking the blood-stained creature flung more magic at her. She threw herself to the ground. Though she avoided the attack she landed awkwardly and winded herself, losing the spell in the process.

She could only watch helplessly as Tiamet's opponent reached for him.

* * *

Tiamet growled in frustration.

He couldn't understand it.

Even if this creature could somehow absorb his magic and breath weapons he should have been able to finish it with physical attacks. He snarled again at the advancing monster as he dragged himself to an unsteady stance, his four legs seeming unable to support him. A deep sound came from the creature and Tiamet realised it was laughing! _Mocking him!_

He lunged forward, but his jaws merely closed on air again. That disdainful laughter became louder, seemingly echoing in the deity's ears, engulfing all other sounds until it was all he could hear.

A truly bestial howl escaped his throat and he turned to face his opponent, blood, mixed with spittle, running from his parted jaw. His eyes flashed dangerously as he began charging, all thought gone and instinct telling him to fight on, the scent of his child's blood thick in the air…

He halted suddenly, ears held up and twitching.

There! Working against that maddening laughter and steadily growing in strength…

It was music, but like nothing created by elf or human. The notes rose undulating through the air and were felt deep within the deity and cleric.

Cabl screeched, turning to face the pit, his hands already up and ready. Tiamet teleported quickly to Vale's side, all five heads fixed on the opening.

The music reached new and dizzying heights and silvery light spilt from the ragged hole. Something moved within the radiance and the young cleric gasped as it came fully into view.

It was a dragon – a female. Her scales were a mix of blue and silver and shimmered in the sunlight, giving her an ethereal quality. Her every feature was elegant from the two curving horns on her head to the long, whip-like tail. Her eyes were like orbs of quicksilver and glowed with power and light.

A strangled noise came from the deity at the princess' side and she tore her eyes from the beautiful creature to glance at him. All five of his heads were fixed on the blue-and-silver dragon and his jaws were slack with shock. Finally he spoke,

"K-Kerrie? Kereska?"


	26. Chapter XXVI

**Jessi:** Bad Jessi, bad. I have to get more a more regular updating schedule…

Okay, so this time I was in France…

---

"_You_!" Cabl snarled, his hands clenching into fists, unmindful of the claws that dug into his palms. He howled and the soft music, the spell that had broken his enchantment on Tiamet, abruptly ceased.

He readied himself, glancing across at the other deity. The platinum dragon was angry still, but without his spell of madness Tiamet was still rational, able to reason and plan. He was far more dangerous now than when he'd gone berserk.

Kereska struck first, unleashing her breath weapon, a crackling stream of blue and silver sparks.

He blinked away, smirking up at her. Teeth dug into his arm and he hissed, furious that he'd missed the male god's approach. Magic surged upwards into the platinum dragon and his other four heads howled. The fifth however, dragged him to one side, still clutching his arm.

The little, yellow-haired creature came into view, one hand touching a shiny bauble at her throat. She was chanting quickly, her voice rising as she neared the end of her incantation.

Realising this, Cabl seized Tiamet's golden head by its "beard" of whisker-like tendrils and pulled it in front of him just as the chant finished.

A golden beam of light shot from the female's out-spread hand, missing Cabl and instead hitting his make-shift shield of the deity's head.

The spell did no damage to the god but it did give the blood-stained Cabl a chance to retaliate. A wall of force slammed into the small mammal, lifting her off her feet. She bounced when she hit the ground and then was still, limbs sprawled out.

The platinum dragon growled and pulled his head back sharply, his teeth tightening their grip. Cabl's arm came away with a tearing sound, his own blood pouring from the stump to mingle with Chelevva's. Tiamet flung the severed limb away, his sharp fangs no longer white but crimson.

Kereska began to chant and the earth around Cabl began to shake and tremble. Tiamet teleported away towards the yellow-haired female while the blood-stained monster levitated above the heaving earth, turning towards the female dragon.

---

Tiamet barked in alarm when he reached Vale's side. She was unconscious and her breathing was shallow. On one side of her head her golden hair had turned crimson from some wound.

He laid the flat of his claw across her forehead, platinum light flowing into her. For several nerve-wreaking heartbeats nothing happened.

Finally she groaned and stirred, her eyes fluttering briefly open before closing again.

The Dragon God smiled in relief and spoke the words to another spell. This time, a pale, translucent dome grew up around her.

"Stay safe Vale…" his cleric well-protected behind his shield Tiamet leapt into the air on newly healed wings to join the fight beside his resurrected mate.

---

Keresa hummed as she cast another spell, in her musical voice. Air elementals of all sizes appeared, their bodies with seemingly no more substance than the wind. At the former deity's command they swarmed around her opponent.

They proved to be only a small annoyance to the blood-stained monster for he could easily dodge even the elementals' swift blows. But it did distract him enough to stop him regenerating his arm and, Kereska hoped, to stop him attacking. At least for a moment. But she knew that was all she could do; it was not her task or her mates to rid the world of the abomination before her.

A terrible shriek arose from the elementals as a great torrent of magic tore its way out from their midst. Kereska barked as the attack - too large to dodge – streamed towards her.

Abruptly she was looking at the beam roaring through empty space on the other side of the battlefield. Tiamet released the edge of her wing, the ripples in the Weave, an after-effect of his teleportation spell, fading.

He hovered beside her, summoning reinforcements, gigantic earth elementals that ripped themselves up from the grey soil. Most of his heads focused on her, jewel-like eyes filled with affection but veiled by worry and sorrow.

"Kerrie…" he shook himself, returning to the matter at hand, "What is he Kereska? He _knew_ you."

The blue-and-silver dragon sighed, the rich and familiar voice of her mate temporarily drowning out her own fear. Her own voice, when she spoke, was grim,

"He is… Sjach..."

"Sjach," Tiamet frowned. He knew that word. It was the Ancient Draconic for shadow, "So he is a creature of shadow then, from the Shadow Plane?"

"No," she shuddered then flicked her wings so that she faced her mate in the air. There was no time for conversation. Instead she sent sounds, images and information directly to the other deity.

Tiamet's eyes widened. Among this information were the memories of his mate, old memories, before the events of the Dragon God War, even before he and Kereska had become mates. But there were memories that were no hers, that had the faded look of second-hand recollections. With a jolt he realised they had been taken from the blood-stained creature below, they had the same feel to them as their opponent's mind. But they must have been obtained long ago and the events they portrayed… well they might have been even older than Tiamet.

He saw the beginning of all things, the creation of light and dark and life. He saw the primordial chaos from which his own species had sprung from.

But he also saw him, Sjach, a reflection of what had been created, an entity through which the Weave did not flow. He had no form, no power without mirroring another, a true reflection. He felt his hatred for those he mirrored, those who could exist independently and had control over the Weave without leeching the power from another's spell. His anger and hatred was especially keen for those deities that could govern the Weave.

He then saw through Kereska's eyes, fighting alone against him, against a creature that had copied her strengths and made them his own. He watched as she sent him into the Beyond – the place behind the Multiverse and far from the reach of mortal and deity alike.

But most of all he felt the fear of his mate… both then and now.


	27. Chapter XXVII

**Jessi:** This story has over 1000 hits! Yes! Thank you everybody!

---

Vale stirred slightly. Rain was making a soft pattering noise on the windows. Muttering she reached out for the immortal that lay beside her…

She sat upright. She was not in her bed back in the Heir's Palace and it was not the patter of rain that she heard. The young cleric moaned as her vision swam before her and she lay back on the ground

A few last stones bounced off the protective shield that surrounded her. As her head fell to one side she saw a cloud of dust rose up in the sky and two dragons that were trying to steady themselves in flight.

Her hands came up to cover her eyes. Her head hurt: a sharp stabbing pain deep in her skull, along with a dull ache behind her eyes. She gingerly slid her hands across to touch her temples and felt sticky, half-dry blood that clumped her hair together.

The high priestess touched the platinum star at her throat and focussed.

Stabs of pain broke her concentration the first time but the second healing was a success. Her thoughts became less muddles and both sets of pain lessened. With one last healing spell she could stand with no difficulties.

She stepped through the shield and cast a fly spell. As her feet left the ground she ran through her mental list of spells, deciding on which to use on the creature that had hurt her guardian. She had narrowed her choice down to either chain lightning or a freezing sphere when something caught her eye.

Something grey and gold lay against the brittle stalks of grass. Swooping down for a closer look Vale saw that it was an emaciated female, covered by a ragged brown cloth. Something black and foul-smelling seeped from her mouth.

The cleric knelt by her side, one hand tentatively reaching out to touch the female's shoulder. The white-haired female abruptly shuddered, a hoarse hiss escaping her throat. She raised one trembling hand and proceeded to drag herself across the ground, her nails digging up the light soil.

---

Tiamet shook the remains of the earth elementals from his bright scales. Below the two circling gods Sjach stood, regenerating his arm. Below the jagged line that marked the place were the five-headed deity had struck there was a mess of bone, muscle and flesh. Evidently he was using another of the stolen abilities he possessed.

"Kerrie!" he called to his mate across the battlefield, switching to telepathy when the screaming winds took his words, _you were the one that defeated him before! Send him back!_

_I… I cannot_, came her reply, the sad and mournful tone almost breaking Tiamet's ancient heart. She had always had that effect on him.

_If you do not have enough strength to do it, then tell me and _I'll _do it! Please Kerrie, before he-_

_I _can't_. You don't understand, only one being can! And… he was so weak…_ now guilt coloured her words, _Sjach is so strong and I thought that if I returned to this plane I could assist! I gave Sjach's target the means to summon me and I tried to warn him before that-_

The winds screamed again and Kereska was forced to pause as the blood-stained creature began his assault once more. Tiamet once again came to the rescue of his resurrected mate, teleporting and erecting a shield around them both.

"You tried to warn who, Kereska?"

Her flawless eyes, seemingly made of quicksilver, looked away,

"His target, the one he has mirrored this time. The target… he was in a familiar place, it… _felt_ like you, my love. So I broadened my search but not even you heard," for the second time that day the male deity's jaws fell open. Kereska, her eyes fixed in the opposite direction, did not see it.

"This place… to feel like me it would have to be somewhere connected to myself, correct?" Tiamet spoke slowly, not bothering to watch his shield anymore.

"Yes," said the female immortal, "possibly your realm, a sacred site or-"

"A temple?"

"Perhaps a temple, yes, if it were a strong focus for a great many worshippers or just one particularly loyal and devout servant."

Particularly loyal servant…

Yes, the most loyal of them all…

"Chelevva..."

"Morning Star?" Kereska muttered, referring to the Ancient Draconic meaning of the word. She looked up at the sky and frowned, "I don't understand, what do you mean?"

"We have only known one morning star…"

"But that was…" she looked into her mate's jewel-like eyes, "That was our… our child…"

"Yes, our eldest son."

"H-he lived?" her eyes brightened and her voice became more musical in her joy, "That- that is wonderful news! That one of our children survived Tiamat's attack-" she stopped abruptly, her brilliant mind having finally worked it out; "…I tried to warn one of _our_ children! But the Beyond… the slightest touch… my touch would have…"

She screamed, all of her agony and pain conveyed into that single expression.

As for Tiamet, even as his shield exploded inwards and pain ignited his body, all he could think of was his son, and what his mate had inadvertently done.

---

Vale finished her last healing spell, leaning back against the sheltering boulder as she rubbed her temples. The emaciated being across from her stared off into the middle distance. The young cleric had at first though that the shrouded figure's eyes were blank, but now she could see that her irises were there. They were twin discs of pale gold, so pale that they were almost lost against the whiteness.

She thought it odd that she hadn't seen them before, especially since she had to concentrate on the female to heal her… They had been there before… hadn't they?

She shook her head and began to think of her other dilemma, how to best strike at her opponent and assist her deity and Kereska. Though she'd been taught battle tactics by Chel, who'd fought many wars across the Multiverse in Tiamet's name, she couldn't think of a single strategy to fight against something this adversary.

---

While Vale worried Sesha stared at the colours that only she could see. She remembered seeing them before back in that murky and shadowy past. They'd been called…

_The shadows drew back away from the light… Light that she knew was somehow connected to the healing magic poured into her._

She'd called them… _scearis_, back in her past life, her life before her master.

Sesha saw the colours around this young creature and they were beautiful, some of the most beautiful she'd ever seen although how she knew that was something that eluded her still.

The _scearis_ around this one was pure white with the faintest flushes of pink, blue and gold along the edges. _Like a cherry blossom_, her memory offered, and though she did not remember where or when Sesha recalled seeing those tiny blooms.

She realised then that she would not get her revenge on her… former master. At least she would not fight him and send him back. That was the task of another. She had a different duty to perform, one whose effects might not be felt for some time.

The female immortal reached out and clamped a hand on the little mammal's shoulder, focusing on the magic she had to complete. Finally the healer went limp.

Nodding to herself Sesha lowered her brother's mate to the ground gently then began her journey back to the lightless caverns.


	28. Chapter XXVIII

Chel shuddered in the chill air of the cavern, though normally temperature would not have affected him in this manner. Truthfully he knew that it was very likely that he would not be able to finish the incantation. His body and spirit were so weak, had been crippled so much in such as short space of time. There was everything from the mysterious attack in his father's temple (he had not yet connected it to the well-meaning spirit of his mother) to the anti-magic zones. Not to mention the torture he had inflicted on himself in Mercuria. Finally there was the strain both Cabl and Kereska had put on his body by returning to the Prime Material Plane.

Had he not been busy chanting he would have laughed – to think that it would be a _spell_ that would have taken the life of Chelevva Pendragon, a creature that lived on magic.

A thin line of blood trickled from his mouth where it fell in crimson droplets from his chin. His eyes were hazy, the irises fading into the whites. Still he continued. If nothing else at least he would die whilst doing his duty.

Suddenly his vision cleared and an observer would have seen the iris and pupil leap back into focus.

Before him stood an emaciated creature with skin that was now more gold than grey stretched over her bones. Her eyes were like two fresh-minted coins of gold and glowed fiercely. Magic crackled in the air as Sesha channelled new strength into her brother.

---

Kereska sluggishly moved her limbs, trying to heave herself up off the ground. She had risen only a handful of inches when her legs trembled, losing all their strength and she collapsed. The former goddess whimpered.

A little way away Tiamet was already on his feet, his deific powers hastening his recovery. He growled at Sjach, who lounged on thin air, a smirk on his face. The male deity moved between the blood-stained creature and his mate, spreading his wings, ready to defend her.

The blue-and-silver dragoness gave another soft cry. Warning her child, reaching out from the Beyond would have done much, much more harm than good. The chill touch of that place behind the Multiverse, where dead deities slept, was like poison to the living powers. With the fact that she had further weakened him by returning to the Prime Material Plane Kereska knew that there was very little chance that he could survive the strength-sapping spell or even complete it.

She got to her feet, suddenly very angry. The former goddess limped over to her mate's side.

Sjach could now tear them both to pieces and send them to the Beyond. But she was a mother dragon and right now she was perfectly capable of taking a few of his pieces with her.

---

Beneath the earth Chel's voice had risen in a new crescendo. The magic around Sesha was a great crackling globe of golden sparks. The ground around her had begun to crack and her feet had left the ground, her body buoyed up by the power in the air.

His hands fell to his side, no longer needed to make the elegant gestures. After a moment's pause they rose again to grasp the holy symbol around his neck, clinging to it like a lifeline.

---

A great sound rose from the bowels of the earth that could have been a scream or a lone voice in prayer. Tiamet flattened his ears against his skulls. Though he was quite comfortable with unearthly things, being a deity, this sound unnerved him greatly, causing his crest to rise higher and tears to sting his jewel-like eyes.

White mist seeped from the ground, gathering into a form that Tiamet knew so well. He had watched that form walk the face of Troil for four thousand years.

It was definitely an image of Chelevva's elven form, but transparent and faint. The long, slender limbs were naked and his hair swirled, unbound about his legs.

Sjach howled at it, lunging towards the vision. Massive clawed fingers tore through the mist, only to have it flow back into shape. In response, the Chel figure gently laid a hand on the blood-stained creature's arm.

His opponent leapt back, screaming in pain, his arm giving off smoke. When the image advanced, Sjach leapt into the air.

He was, however, too late…

The Chel figure gently took him into a soft embrace, dissolving into white mist as he did so. It burnt the shadow creature's flesh, the smell of burning blood mixing with that of scorched flesh. Sjach snarled and snapped, magic crackling along the strands of fog. However, it held him as though it were chains of the finest steel. More screams escaped the creature, becoming louder and louder as his bonds tightened.

Then abruptly he was nothing more than dust.

The white mist flowed back into the pit as tattered white ribbons and all was quiet.

The silence seemed deafening.

Kereska broke it by letting out a joyous bark.

"Then he… he is gone?" asked Tiamet, sitting down heavily. His mate's purrs of happiness were all the answer he needed and identical smiles broke out across his many faces, "After all that, he went so quietly in the end."

---

Chel stiffened as the white mist returned, streaming into the open wound on his back. He gritted his teeth as the spirit of Cabl was dragged with it, kicking and screaming back to the Beyond. He was suddenly very cold as though his blood had turned to ice-water in his veins. As Cabl vanished into the Beyond there came an angry voice,

_I… am not finished…with you._

The male immortal felt something being wrapped around him. Then it pulled.

---

Vale walked towards the two deities who were resting against each other, their eyes half-closed. She wondered why she had awoken behind a boulder. The last thing she remembered was tending to a grey-and-gold skinned female but apart from that…

"Vale-chan!" her deity lifted one head from the ground to watch her approach. The cleric flopped to the ground, leaning against Tiamet's scaly side,

"We won."

The dragon deity nodded,

"Chelevva banished him away. We are safe now. We won" as he repeated Vale's statement he curled a wing around Kereska and Vale smiled, thinking of holding her own dragon… after she shouted at him for making her worry.

There was a noise like a crack of a whip and a painfully thin female wrapped in a shroud appeared. Her face was wet with pearly tears and her golden eyes (bright gold by now like twin suns) were hazy,

"You did not win…" her voice was faint and raspier than before from crying, "My… master has been defeated, that is true, but-"

"Your master would have destroyed my family," Tiamet growled warningly, "He does not deserve a single tear."

"I do not cry for him. I cry for the fate of my brother."

---

**Jessi:** (bows frantically) _I'm sorry! I'm sorry!_ This is the last cliff-hanger I promise. And the next chapter shall be out in no time at all. Heh, I was up until 1am typing this one… then the site wouldn't work (sob)


	29. Chapter XXIX

**Jessi:** I don't want people killing me for that cliff-hanger last chapter… You all seemed to take it too well… Anyway, please don't hate me for what I do now to Chel. (Hides under the desk)

---

Chel's chest didn't move… but he never had to breathe at all…

He couldn't be…

There was no pulse in his wrist or his neck… but he lived on magic and his heart had never had to beat…

It wasn't possible…

Vale refused to believe it. Even as she knelt at the immortal's side, mechanically checking for heartbeat and breath, her mind rejected the idea again and again…

But when Tiamet moaned in agony and huge shimmering tears fell from his eyes, she knew it to be true. No matter how much she wished that it wasn't.

Chelevva Pendragon was dead.

He lay on his stomach, head resting on the ground on its side. Frost outlined the Cupid's bow lips and clung to his long lashes, making them sparkle in the summoned globes of light. His skin was covered in a shroud of ice. His hair was frozen where it had lain, even the few strands that had escaped from the rest to hang before his face.

Icy blood crunched beneath Vale's fists as she slammed them against the ground. The young cleric screamed, her blue eyes welling up with tears.

"This is your fault!" the shrieking voice echoed through the cavern. Though it did not cause Vale to stir from Chel's side, one of Tiamet's heads swung in that direction.

"_All your fault_!" screamed the white-haired female. She raised her hands, raw magic crackling along her skin and hair. Her golden eyes blazed like tiny suns

The former deity did not reply. Her gaze flickered between the frozen body of her child and the equally still form of her mate. The only movement on the male god was the steady fall of tears from his eyes. As they fell across the wounds that decorated his gold-and-platinum hide the shimmering droplets glowed and vanished, leaving behind smooth, whole scales. The deity wept curative holy water.

Vale was stroking Chel's long hair, her tears freezing when they fell onto his skin and the cold seeping through her clothes and numbing her fingers, but she was unmindful of such things.

"_Did you not hear me_?" shrieked the emaciated creature, "It was your fault, you weakened him and he couldn't fight back against Sjach!" when she still got no response, she howled in fury and brought her fists smashing down onto the blue-and-silver hide, "He'll rot for an eternity in the Beyond and it's all because of you!"

Kereska screamed in pain, the magic cracking scales, causing blood to seep out from beneath them and she whirled around, attacking out of reflex.

"_Enough_!"

Both females froze, their bodies responding to the magic in the deity's command instantly.

Tiamet got to his feet,

"It is no one's fault but Sjach's," his voice was steady and firm, but the tears of holy water still fell from his eyes, "He used Chelevva in such a fashion and paid the price for it."

Behind him Vale gently coasted a hand along the open wound on Chel's back.

"Sesha… your mother did not realise what she was doing and Chelevva brought her here of his own free will," at Tiamet's words the white-haired immortal jerked her head up in surprise. The dragon deity smiled at it, "My daughter, did you think I would not know you? Those eyes… and you called Chelevva your brother."

Sesha lowered her head, saying nothing. Finally she drifted over to Chel's ice-covered form, kneeling beside it quietly.

The male deity padded over to his mate, leaning against her and wrapping one wing around her trembling form. Hitching her shroud up over her face to surreptitiously wash the tears from her cheeks, Sesha reached out with her other hand to touch Chelevva's face.

She screamed and jerked her hand back as though it had been burnt. Her eyes widened,

"…I see now… Brother, you are…" she glanced at her hand with its own covering of frost, the appendage seeming less real somehow. She turned, raising her other hand to clutch her cowl close.

---

"He is not dead!" all three beings turned towards Sesha, their eyes filled now with confusion as well as sorrow, "His soul has left his body but it is still living! Sjach dragged it with him into the Beyond!"

Kereska gasped,

"But no deity can live there! He'd succumb to it and-" she bit off the end of the sentence, not willing to think of her child in pain. Tiamet unfurled his wing from around his mate and was at Chel's side in an instance, reaching for him.

A skeletal hand stopped him,

"If you were to go after him, then you would die."

"But I cannot leave Chelevva there!"

Sesha nodded, something that might have been a smile forming on her face, half-hidden by her shroud,

"I know this. This is why I shall go," the shroud fell away from her head, settling about her shoulders, "I am already dead Father, a spirit plucked from the Beyond by my former master. I will go back and I will sleep forever."

"I- I will be going as well," Kereska joined her daughter by the still form of her child, "It was my fault that he was able to do this to Chelevva, after all," seeing that her mate was about to protest she shushed him, "I banished Sjach to the Beyond long ago my love, but I did not follow to destroy him once and for all… I was afraid to die. Please, allow me to do this for Chelevva!"

The male deity did not respond at first and the dragoness turned to avoid his gaze. But finally he replied,

"Kerrie… Don't ask me to do this. I- I've missed you, so much."

"I'm already dead, my love," said the blue-and-silver dragoness, echoing her daughter's words, "Tiamat killed me a long time ago," she leant it close, her nose touching one of Tiamet's, "I'm here at the expense of Chelevva's strength. Do not let me stay at the cost of his life."

He was silent for several heartbeats. Finally he flung himself at Kereska, wrapping his wings around her body. He withdrew slowly, more tears of holy water brimming in his jewel-like eyes.

---

_Across Faerun, Tiamet's clerics felt their eyes sting with tears and their hearts ache with sorrow. Those with mates felt a great urge to hold them close._

---

Vale watched all of this filled with mixed emotions. There was hope that Chel might be saved but she was filled with the powerful agony of her deity.

Sesha turned her head to look at her and the voice of the female immortal filled the cleric's mind,

_I know that you are the mate of my brother. Your memories_, Vale felt a feather-light presence in her mind as the memories she spoke of were gently studied. Sesha sighed (but it was not a sad noise) as she felt the powerful love that the mortal had for her brother, _they are so… I wonder if things were different… _she smiled sadly and Vale saw a glimpse of what the golden creature could have been, _I gave you a gift to help you in the times ahead… and they will be hard. You will not see the effects of my work for some time, but you will know it. For the pain I have caused my brother, I will repay him by protecting the one he loves. _

Vale looked down at her guardian's still features. The white-haired female continued,

_I must ask that you protect him when the time comes. Give him your unconditional love. It will be a shield and a refuge for him. Love him, because _I_ never had the chance to love or to live. _

Sesha bowed slightly,

"Fare well."

Then she and Kereska were gone.

**---**

**Jessi:** (Still under the desk) Why am I so cruel to Chel?


	30. Chapter XXX

**Jessi:** Well everyone didn't take it _that_ badly… except for the punching I am relatively whole and healthy. Though I do seem to be getting a head start on my winter cold (sniffles).

It's been a while since my last update. Freaking writer's block… like a _wall_ it was. Not to mention coursework for school and I got sick… again.

* * *

Chel struggled, though his strength was gone, the little that remained after Cabl's banishment leeched away by the chill of the Beyond. Still he moved feebly, trying to free his limbs from the other spirit's grasp. If he could get even one leg, one clawed paw free…

He knew that even if he did he wouldn't be able to pull himself back to the Multiverse.

The formless body of Cabl tugged again and the dragon's anchor to his world – the intricate web of protection spells cast by his father such a short time ago – frayed a little more. Another of the thin golden strands snapped, even that tiny sound seeming loud in this silent place.

* * *

Sesha unfolded the wings of her true form and, though it was not needed, flapped them as she followed the golden trail of magic. Soon not even that sign was needed.

Her brother was unnaturally bright in this dark place, though the platinum-and-silver colour of his deific soul was being dulled even as she watched. The source of this taint was wrapped around him, pinning his limbs to his body, which here was his true form, and crushing his wings against his back. Even his tail was anchored in place by long, ribbon like tendrils.

Sjach seemed to sense their approach and more of those frail wisps of smoke appeared. They were only fragile in appearance as Sesha learnt when one slashed out at her.

Here in the Beyond there was no flesh to cut and no blood to spill. But there was pain and Sesha screamed in agony. Blindly she clawed out at the others and, by sheer luck alone, managed to turn them back. Kereska arrowed past her, though she moved with visible effort.

The Beyond sapped away the strength of the former deity and she didn't have long before she would sleep again. Chelevva and herself were not true deities but would not last much longer than Kereska.

So she tore into Sjach's form with renewed ferocity, her claws seizing great handfuls of the shadow creature trying to pull him from her brother's body. Kereska… her mother was beside her, fighting with ferocity not seen in the former deity since the last time she had fought to protect her children.

That had been against… Sesha shuddered at resurfacing memories of a wicked goddess with cruel barbed claws. And she knew that that fight had been the one to take her mother's life and that of all but one of her siblings.

So the female immortal, her scales more gold than grey now, prayed. For the first time since returning to the Multiverse Sesha prayed, begging her father and nameless powers both, for their fight to succeed.

But still Sjach ignored their efforts and pulled again. This time there was a louder snap as several of the golden threads broke. That noise was followed by a hoarse cry of pain from Chelevva. Though his real body lay outside of this place the muscles under his scales still bunched and contracted as spasms took them.

The tremors that passed through his body began to travel up the golden threads of magic, more of them shattering as the immortal writhed in pain. The ones that were left were the stronger and older bonds, protection spells, the male's own innate magical abilities and a single silvery-white mental bond.

One of the mirror creature's tendrils reached out for that bond, a clear target against the golden mass of protection spells.

* * *

Vale clutched at her head and screamed. The loud and sudden noise startled Tiamet who immediately trained all of his heads on his cleric.

The elf was sobbing in pain, her fingernails digging into her scalp, even tearing the delicate skin over her newly healed head wound. The deity leapt into action, platinum healing magic flowing from him to Vale. The magic, however, did not ease her pain.

Tiamet whined, the noise seeming incongruous coming from his many throats. This could only mean that whatever was happening to Chelevva was putting immense strain on the bond the high priestess had with his son.

There was nothing that he could do against the Beyond.

He picked up the sobbing cleric, making her as comfortable as possible in the crook of one wing. If his daughter and his mate should fail in their task in the Beyond then he would have no choice but to sever the mental bond between the lovers. It would save her life, like amputating a gangrenous limb but the risk to her sanity…

Another whimper echoed through the cavern. Not since the deity had been trapped as a mortal had he felt so useless. This time, however, it was worse, his powers intact but worthless.

* * *

Sesha bit and clawed at the tendril, trying to separate it from her brother's link with his mate. Behind her Kereska harried the main bulk of Sjach's form, though her strength was visibly flagging.

Her claws brushed one of the protection spell threads and she felt the power it contained. If her brother were stronger he could have absorbed the magic it contained and…

But wasn't she of the same blood as Chelevva? She hadn't had the instruction and education her brother received nor the vast lifetime to use those skills but…

She whispered an apology to her brother's mate and closed her paws about the golden strands.

* * *

Tiamet's body jolted slightly. Confused he lifted his head up, concentrating. The protections spells, resembling a blue-silver web around Chelevva's prone form, were fading dramatically.

Instead of merely breaking them someone was absorbing the magic. Kereska had this ability and their child had inherited it but this was not the smooth, quick technique that they'd perfected. Whoever was absorbing this was doing so in small, irregular motions, gathering it crudely together.

Was this a benign force or a malevolent one?

In an instant Tiamet had made his decision. Avatars that had been answering prayer, watching over worshippers, granting spells and hundreds of other tasks, great and small suddenly were gone as the Dragon Lord focussed his concentration. At once the deity's immense intellect was collected into two avatars, one given a small portion of his concentration to look after Vale, while the other had a more dangerous task to perform.

With a thought Tiamet Pendragon willed himself to follow his children and his mate into the Beyond.


	31. Chapter XXXI

**Jessi:** It has been a long time since I've posted anything. I blame the parents... and school... and exams... and illness... and driving lessons. It was just one thing after the other really.

Real life sucks.

* * *

It was the cold that Tiamet first noticed. Though dragons were usually not affected by the extremes of temperature the chill stabbed through his flesh, not impeded in the slightest by his scaly hide. He shuddered.

Any thoughts on his own suffering vanished, however, as he glimpsed the flickering platinum light in the distance. His wings snapped open.

* * *

Sesha bit and scratched at the tendrils, screaming as one lashed against her back. She didn't move from her position, keeping her hind legs tangled in the golden tendrils of magic. The energy flowed into her, causing little sparks to dance across her scales.

Her brother was not even moving now, his body limp and held up only by the tendrils that lashed him into position.

Her mother was still fighting but feebly. More and more of her blue-silver radiance had faded into the background until she looked like a bare outline of herself. Sesha's own golden scales were starting to become transparent, a sure sign that she was fading into the Beyond.

Another of strand of mist worked its way past Sesha's guard and she reared up, thinking that this one was aiming to whip against her scales like the others.

Sjach had a different plan however. This strand straightened and plunged into Sesha's chest like a lance.

There was no breath here but the female immortal still gave a strangled gasp. A tangled web of pain had grown in her flesh. Sjach would have smashed through the ribcage at least. There was a good chance that a lung would have been punctured. Maybe he would have even torn through her heart? But this was the Beyond and there were no such injuries, since there were no bodies to inflict them on.

But the pain...

Sesha screamed and screamed. She hadn't screamed this much since... _More shadows vanished from the vault of her memory_ ...since Sjach's experiments, the mirror creature trying to find Chelevva's weaknesses through the torturing her.

She glared at the shadows and mist wrapped around her brother. It was all she could do.

Her thoughts were growing harder to grasp. Sesha was dying.

_Give it to me, Sesha._

Sesha looked up and she saw...

Tiamet Pendragon, huge and bright against the darkness of the Beyond. His form was made of blinding light in platinum, gold and every tint in between. This light, the Dragon Lord's power, bled off him in brilliant flares as the Beyond began its work against the living deity.

But there was so much of it, the power of an entire pantheon, of gods who had long ago succumbed to the Beyond, condensed and compressed into this single entity.

And it was so beautiful.

_My Lord, my Father! I give you all!_

Sesha screamed into the darkness, one clawed paw feebly outstretched towards her father. And she smiled as she faded away completely into the sleep of the Beyond.

* * *

Kereska smiled as she heard her daughter's prayer, catching a glimpse of the devotion she had had in her brief life. Though her form was now just a vague slivery cloud she sent her power forward to join that of her daughter's.

Her mate's heads turned towards her and she saw an equally strong devotion in his eyes. Then she too went to her rest.

* * *

The power of his daughter was a blazing gold and that of his mate was the silvery-blue of the Weave. Together they had formed a glowing ball that Tiamet held protectively in his claws. The dragon deity beat his wings, causing light to fall from them like rainwater.

The shadow creature's tendrils lashed out at the deity who spun to avoid most of them and ignored the pain caused by the rest as he powered straight towards the mass of mist and shadow. He loosened his grip on the ball of light in his paw, ready to use it. The main body of Sjach's smoke-like form drew back from the raw power of two immortals and, with Tiamet now too close to attack, it chose to defend.

He roughly pulled Chel's unconscious form in front of him, shielding himself from the dragon deity... who smiled as his task was made easier. One clawed paw plunged into his child's body and released the ball of deific energy.

The younger immortal's body jerked as the gold-and-silver light spread across his body, outlining every vein on his body like a healer's diagram. His wings snapped open, tearing apart the tendrils that bound them together. His back arched, pulling him from his father's claws.

Sjach was rapidly pulling away from him, trying to flee deeper into the Beyond. Chel dug his claws in, somehow finding purchase in the mist and howled. Before Tiamet could say a thing, the Divine Agent bit down.

The attack should have done nothing but Sjach shrieked, its body dissolving.

Every one of Chel's teeth glowed with deific energy, the golden glow visible as he drew his head back to bite down again. There was no need to repeat the attack however.

Sjach was gone.

* * *

Almost fainting in relief Tiamet dug his claws into his son, who was rapidly going limp. He began to leave the Beyond quickly, following the link he had to the second of his avatars, well aware that Chelevva would not be able to survive for much longer here.

Abruptly there was a sharp pain in his leg and his claws involuntary unclasped. Chelevva flapped his wings once and, as the deity was pulled back to the Prime Material Plane, Tiamet could just make out his child's words.

But what did he mean by "not yet"?

* * *

**Jessi:** This chapter probably sucks. I am so out of practice. 


	32. Chapter XXXII

**Jessi:** For those who thought that the last chapter seemed a bit rushed – well, it was. It was one of those that you stare at for hours on end and end up changing about one word or sentence. So I sat down and just kind of forced it out (which you really shouldn't do). Anyhoo. Iceheart Firesoul called for a longer chapter and I shall endeavour to give one.

* * *

Tiamet Pendragon had not come away from the Beyond unscathed. A large part of his consciousness lay dormant in his lair, recovering from its chilling touch. The remainder of his power was stretched thinly, among his many tasks. 

But no matter how many events called for his attention there was one avatar that did not move.

Behind two colossal silver doors, deep within the lair of the Pendragon's heir, the deity watched over the supine form of his child. There was a bed, originally brought here centuries ago for its graceful golden frame set with flowers carved of amber and topaz, but this was only for the sake of the young elf who insisted on being by his side. Chelevva himself was floating several inches above the covers.

He was covered by a light sheet, drawn up over his waist. From the base of his neck to his narrow hips his body had been wrapped in bandages. The only sign of the terrible damage that had been inflicted on him were the crimson stains on the white linen.

In his passing into the Prime Material Plane the mirror creature Sjach had tore open the scar on the younger immortal's back. Chel's own regenerative powers could not heal it because of Sjach's magic. Even the healing magic of the Lord of Dragons would not work, the scar inflicted by his antithesis Tiamat. Vale's own magic seemed to have no visible effect, if any – but that fact did not stop her from pouring it into him until she ran out of healing spells or, as was happening too often for Tiamet's peace of mind, fainted from exhaustion.

Tiamet Pendragon was not well-acquainted with mortal grief at such a close level. He had heard prayers that pleaded and begged and had sensed his clerics at work to relieve and to cause suffering. But here, watching the mechanical, silent movements that reminded him so much of a younger Chelevva…

That thought scared him very much.

* * *

The days merged together deep in the earth of Mercuria. Vale barely ate what her deity put in front of her: instead going through the routine of prayer, healing and sleep. 

Slowly, more and more of the Beyond's chill left Tiamet's essence and it was almost normal again.

There was still a single avatar watching over Vale and Chel.

There was still a chill to the immortal's flesh that burnt those who touched it.

* * *

"What did you mean Chelevva?" 

The immobile features of the younger immortal gave no answer. Sighing, the deity looked across at his priestess.

Though she'd always been small to the many-headed god her soul had burnt with such vitality that he'd never thought of her as fragile. But now, pale from her time spent underground and a blank expression on her face he felt that she'd break if he laid a single paw on her.

Currently she was sleeping, or more likely she was unconscious, her hand gripping the edge of Chelevva's white pinion like a child with a favourite toy. The innocent tableau pained the deity's heart.

"Do not make her suffer like this Chelevva. For her sake and your own, I beg of you!"

* * *

It was warm here, unlike the rest of the Beyond. But this was not the place of utter darkness where Tiamet and the others had fought to free the imprisoned Chel. This was the dream of a deity, brought to rest in the Beyond's eternal sleep. 

And it was here, a mountainside that existed on no map that three immortals stood.

"It is done then," the first was a dragoness of blue-and-silver scales with eyes of molten mercury and a face free of all concern, "I have taught you all."

"It is time for you to return home, Brother, and for us to return to our rest," the second was an immortal of golden scales and eyes like miniature suns. Her body was free of scars and a serene expression lingered on her face, as she should have been had tragedy not befallen her.

The third, the immortal prince with scales of platinum tinted with silver spoke,

"Sister, I must know. Was it your spirit trying to reach out to me? All those centuries ago – was it your voice and that of our siblings that spoke to me?"

Sesha smiled,

"No, my brother. It was a delusion brought on by narcotics and your own guilt," she leant closer, "We do not begrudge you the life you were given. There is no guilt and no stain on your soul."

Chelevva Pendragon smiled.

And he left the spirits of his family to their rest to return to those that lived.

* * *

"Vale-chan?" 

The priestess looked up from the platter of food that she was toying with. Her eyes were tired and worn, the grey circles underneath them standing out all the more on her paling skin.

"Vale-chan," repeated the deity sadly, "what have you done-" he stopped himself and shook one head from side-to-side, "Vale-chan, I feel perhaps… that it'll be better… It would be better if I returned you to your own home."

He had expected some resistance but he did not expect her to scream.

He had heard worse noises before, but the almost animalist clamour was terrifying coming out of her mouth.

Eventually the sounds resolved into coherent words,

"No, no, no, no! Please no!"

Tiamet reached out to the sobbing cleric, touching a clawed paw to her shaking limbs, already speaking the short incantation that would transport her home.

Abruptly the magic fled from him.

There was a strangled gasp and his child's eyes snapped open, his back arching even as the levitation spell suddenly failed and deposited him clumsily onto the bed.

No… It didn't fail. It had been absorded by Chelevva.

…_re… ne… I… More! I need more!_

The joy at hearing his child's telepathic voice was quickly surpassed by his worry. Chelevva was corpse-pale and his eyes were dull, he needed magic.

A strand of alabaster hair wrapped around his wrist tightly, magic rushing into Chel's body through the make-shift conduit. Another lock wrapped around Vale's arm desperately drawing on both her arcane and divine powers.

At last Chelevva's body seemed to have enough and he slumped against Vale's shoulder, trembling from the exertion.

The elven princess slowly raised trembling hands to touch the white-haired immortal's face as if she could not totally believe that he was real.

"…Vale…" said the dragon prince, his voice quieter that his usual soft tones, "Koishii… my lo-"

He was cut off as a franticly sobbing elf flung her arms around him, covering his still-cool skin with kisses.

Tiamet Pendragon smiled, delaying his own embrace of his child for the moment. He had not missed his child's words, spoken in his first language of Ancient Draconic.

_Koishii…_ Beloved… Soul-mate…

* * *

**Jessi:** Eeee! I brought my favourite angst-filled bishounen back! (Chel glares at Jessi from hug and she scuttles away.) 

Anyway, so the next chapter shall be the last one. Then I'll be beginning work on the fourth Chronicle (the penultimate one!). So I'll be trying to write fast, okay?


	33. Chapter XXXIII

**Jessi:** Last chapter!

By the way Iceheart Firesoul, I think that your emotions are mixed up enough as it is ;P

* * *

Chel's recovery was far from complete. The magic he had taken from his father and his ward had been enough to awaken him for a while. But now he needed to rest mentally, in a state unique to godchildren that was not like a mortal repose but instead half-meditation and half-sleep. 

It was reassuring to both the dragon deity and the young cleric to see him like this. Even though the steady rise-and-fall of his chest was only a parody of mortal breathing, it was so much better than his previous statue-like state.

But the prince's spirit was not the only thing to return from the Beyond. Two black books, bound with white-gold bands and each with a delicate silver lock. And from what the male immortal had said in his short periods of consciousness there was also the contents of the plain wooden box, given to him by the mysterious and ancient dragon – all gifts from the goddess Kereska.

Tiamet, originally brought into being as a god of knowledge, of course was curious about the books' content. But the books resisted all of his attempts to open it, from intricate magical spells to brute force. It seemed that they would open only for Chelevva. The only thing that his child did was to confirm that thought – but did not speak of any purpose that the dead goddess had for him, or if there was one at all.

But during these conversations, the younger immortal would always look down at the ring on his right index finger with some unidentifiable emotion locked away behind his eyes.

* * *

It was later, days later, when Chelevva's periods of wakefulness had just begun to outweigh his periods of sleep when Tiamet was drawn to his child's chambers by a horrified scream. 

His cleric was out of bed, her eyes wide with fear. It took little more than a heartbeat for the deity to realise what was troubling her.

The white-haired immortal was gone.

With great difficulty he ignored Vale's heartrending pleas and focused his concentration to finding Chelevva, his own worry like a bright knife in his chest.

That emotion only grew when he sensed his son's location… the small chamber with the walls lined with all those evil little instruments. Hurriedly he barked a single word and the teleportation magic acted instantly.

The many-headed dragon was so concerned about reached the chamber before Chelevva did anymore damage to himself that he almost trampled the delicate elf-shaped immortal. He caught himself in time, though even his deific reflexes could not save him from an ungraceful tumble backwards.

He got back onto his four feet, all five heads fixed on his child.

Chelevva appeared unharmed. There was not even the scent of blood on his body, the light robe of coal-black silk that he wore or the thin sheet that covered his shoulders. His eyes were tired though and a thin sheen of sweat covered his skin.

"Chelevva…" the white-haired immortal looked up at the sound of his father's voice, "What are you doing here?"

The younger dragon's only response was to lift a shaking finger to point at the opposite wall to the one he was leaning on.

It was the same as any other wall although, and Tiamet frowned as he looked closer, there was a section that was not covered by any carvings. There was also some kind of magical residue, the last tatters of powerful magical wards that had once protected the entrance of…

Tiamet started backwards and his look of surprise and confusion must have showed because Chel spoke then,

"I rid myself of that place."

"Chelevva?"

"I do not require those things anymore," he started to get to his feet slowly and slightly unsteadily, smiling at his father when the deity offered a supporting hand, "It was the promise that I made to her," the younger immortal slid then into unconsciousness so there was no one to witness that joyous tears were falling from Tiamet's jewel-like eyes.

* * *

The time came and Chel was now recovered enough to continue his duties back in Vale's forest home. His father expressed his concerns but, after the sheer volume of prayers coming from his elven worshippers, he grudgingly admitted that his child was needed on the Prime Material Plane. 

Goodbyes were said, embraces were exchanged and, in the case of Chel, promises to return and visit (_before_ the next crisis) were extracted.

Then the white-haired immortal wrapped an arm around his love and began the planeshift.

* * *

In a cavern of unknown location a truly ancient wyrm lifted his head. He could sense the passage of the godchild to the Prime Material Plane and knew that all was well. 

And he could hear in his mind and deep in his scaly breast the voice of his goddess. He wept as he knew that his task was finally over and the last servant of Kereska vanished, gone to his eternal rest.

* * *

Vale opened her eyes to be met with the familiar and reassuring sight of the Temple steps and the watchful statue of Tiamet. 

"It's time for the Service," said Chel in his whisper-like voice and indeed Vale could hear the singing coming from inside.

"Should we make our entrance then?" she joked lightly, linking her arm in with her guardian's. They were about to ascend the step when there was a soft gasp from behind them.

Instead of the usual late comer there stood Kerova. He had dressed hurriedly and his circlet was askew. Not only that but his face looked thin and his eyes, normally exactly the same as Vale's, were slightly red. The guilt in those tired orbs had not diminished.

"Vale… Chel…" the monarch took one step forward, then abandoned caution and ran to them, flinging his arms around them both, "I'm sorry… Tiamet forgive me, I'm so very sorry."

* * *

In a city far away from Vale's forest home, someone lifted their head to the sky, frowning slightly. She shook off the strange feeling that had crept through her mind and turned to rejoin the festivities, but something lingered still. 

_Perhaps_, she thought, _something is about to happen?_

The only thing that her face showed, however, was a dazzling and above all charming smile, even as the wheels began to turn in her brilliant mind.

* * *

And in that same city, another female looked up into the sky and the stars that she had not seen for what seemed centuries. With a thought she sealed the portal behind her and tucked a bundle of now-blank paper rectangles into a pocket. She then smiled. 

There were larger cities and there were prettier cities but still there was some kind of excitement in the air, a sort of premonition, something that very few could sense.

_Something is going to happen,_ and she grinned even more with anticipation.

She left the alleyway and moved out to the main streets to see what this place could offer.

**END OF BOOK THREE**

**Jessi:** The last two paragraphs are the introduction of my two new magical mystery characters! But you'll have to wait a bit before you get to meet them!

Right and that's the end of book three. That took less time than the other two to write I think you'll agree. In total there'll be five stories so I've just finished the middle stretch.

Personally I consider the first two to be a group of their own, since they lead directly to one another, which will make what you just read the bridging story if you will, between one group of two stories and another, which are numbers four and five. Which makes it very important.

My confusing ramblings aside, this was a very fun story to write, even though I had to "kill off" Chel for a while and make everyone hate me including myself… Sorry for that. It's the longest story I've ever written and brings the total Chronicles up to seventy one chapters and one hundred and twenty seven reviews!

So thank you readers for putting up with the general Jessi-ness of the whole process and thank you for reading and reviewing.

Especially my regular readers Iceheart Firesoul and Triaxx2. Thank you so much! (bow)

I hope to see you all and hear from you when I start book four in a couple of week's time.

Jessica Doyle

18th February 2007


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